


seven more days

by aminami



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, P5R Spoilers, Palace Fic, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29765562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aminami/pseuds/aminami
Summary: Seven infiltrations. Seven ranks.Seven days to save Goro Akechi.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 37
Kudos: 177





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> the fic will update every day for a week. please read the tags/warnings carefully.
> 
> if you decide to stay with me for the ride, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Tell me, Akira," Goro doesn't realize he spoke until Akira stops in his tracks, and turns around to look at him one more time. "Have you ever tried to get to know someone without having them perform emotional vivisection for your viewing pleasure? Are you having fun seeing me like this?"_

"I'm killing Maruki today."

He says it out loud, repeating it two more times just to be sure, like he has been every day. He's waiting for something—divine therapist punishment, perhaps, a forced brainwashing session, or maybe a classic lighting strike to add to the comedy that his life has become. 

And yet, that piece of shit has the audacity to ignore him—a fucking _assassin_ waving a gun outside his Palace, and yes, after two weeks of stalking Maruki, he doesn't even bother to hide anymore. He probably knows what's coming for him anyway, and decides to mock Goro by never showing up. As if keeping him alive wasn't enough of a joke. 

Outside of the Metaverse, Goro Akechi held a gun in his hands exactly three times. Each gun was a little different, and yet holding it was no less satisfying.

  1. The toy gun he stole from a rich kid in his class. It was limited edition and Goro played with it for maybe ten minutes before burying it near the apartment complex where he lived with his mother. If it wasn’t for the lack of proof, he would have gotten into trouble. Luckily, there weren’t any, and it’s not like stealing from the rich could be considered a crime. His childhood hero, Robin Hood, taught him as much.  
  

  2. The gun an absent-minded officer left in the room with him after his mother had killed herself. Goro still barely remembers anything from that time but he remembers the cold metal, and the way his finger felt just right where it was pressed against the trigger. From that moment, he realized his hands were meant to do just that. Every bone, every muscle in his body, grew and evolved to be able to kill.  
  

  3. The gun he got from Shido. Elegant, slender, efficient—the only gift he’d ever receive from his father. He only used it once since he kept most of his killings within the Metaverse. Sometimes a more traditional approach is required, and if the cleaner isn't available, well, there is always Goro.



Goro wonders what would happen if he started shooting pedestrians—surely, Maruki wouldn't be able to ignore him then. He lifts the gun, pointing it at an unassuming couple wandering down the street. It's almost relaxing to feel his finger slide on the trigger, like it's meant to be there. Goro's never been actually interested in murder. It was a way to survive, to get closer toward his goal. He felt more enjoyment from torturing Shadows in the Metaverse, but sadly, killing people in the real world was much messier, and less fun. But well, if shooting an adorable couple right outside of Maruki's Palace doesn't send a message, then—

"Bored, are we?" 

Leave it to the leader of the Phantom Thieves to spoil the little fun he could possibly get. Akira watches him carefully with his hands deep inside his pockets, looking more curious than he does worried. Goro would be happy to shoot him if circumstances were different. Instead, he puts away the gun, putting his hands up in a mockery of surrender. "You caught me."

The irony of their predicament isn't lost on Akira, who smirks before pulling on the stray ends of his hair, as he always does to hide his real intentions. "Do you want me to arrest you? Believe me or not, it's not actually as fun as they make it out to be in the movies."

 _Couldn't be worse than dying_ , Goro thinks. But it's not like he actually remembers. He could maybe tell Akira all about it, laugh it off, and call himself another funny experiment—Maruki's cat, both dead and alive as long as the fake reality continues to exist.

"I suppose I am bored, Kurusu," he finds himself saying, as pointless as it is to engage in any conversation that isn't strictly related to the infiltration. "What else would you have me doing?"

"We could," _tug, tug, tug._ Akira's fucking hair is starting to drive him insane. Akira pulls something out of his pocket, and Goro has to stifle the urge to knock it out of his hand, out of instinct. "Or, you could go see a movie with me."

“Let me get this straight,” Goro narrows his eyes upon seeing the tickets. “It’s the end of the fucking world, and you want me to go to the movies with you.”

Akira shrugs. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by any of it, then again, heroes like him probably call it a casual Friday. “I heard it’s a good one.”

“You and me," Goro repeats just to make sure. "Watching a movie together.”

“I was hoping to get to know you,” Akira says. _The real you_ is what he probably doesn’t say. If he did, maybe Goro would actually come to respect him. “Beats just sitting here twiddling our thumbs, or shooting pedestrians for that matter, don't you think? Unless you have better ideas.”

“Get to know _me_ ,” Goro repeats, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “You get off on it, don’t you? Seeing what makes people click, how to get under their skin, how to please them, make them happy—are you really all that different from Maruki?”

Akira tightens his jaw. Goro almost smiles knowing he’s already won—even if doesn’t actually think so, even if it’s really quite a bit of a stretch. It’s so easy to hurt the self-righteous types. One good aim at their precious sense of justice, and they fall apart like a crystal statue.

"Why are you even here?" Goro asks, suddenly tired of the silence. "Shouldn't good boys be at school around this time?"

Akira is hardly a good boy, and neither is Goro. He hasn't been to a single class since he got back. He puts on his uniform, partly out of habit, partly out of caution—just in case, the cops in Maruki's reality still give a crap and decide to question him. Akira's wearing his casual clothes, and for the first time, Goro considers it to be a little bit odd. 

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Akira says absently, like he hasn't heard him. Goro forces himself to look up at him, only to find him a few shades paler, as if talking to Goro puts an actual strain on his ever-pure heroic soul. “It’s just one movie. Please. Come with me.”

He already killed Akira once. He finds some satisfying pleasure in twisting the knife that’s already lodged in Akira’s chest.

“If you knew the first thing about me,” Goro clenches his teeth. “You would have known I hate fucking movies. I find them to be an utter waste of time, created for the enjoyment of simple-minded masses who won’t bother to pick up a book.”

Akira actually smiles. Asshole. Leave it up to him to smile when he’s bleeding out right in front of Goro. “Oh? So you don’t own a limited edition of Featherman DVDs, or was Futaba upset for no reason?”

“There’s no point in getting to know me,” Goro says, ignoring the comment as Akira did previously. “Our deal is off the moment we stop Maruki. And I promise me, you will never, ever see me again. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to enjoy the little time I don't have to spend with you.”

Akira has the decency not to look sad, if anything he looks disappointed. Goro hates his stupid sentimentality, but for once, he almost wishes he put more of a fight. Instead, he turns out, his shoulders slumping in the most pathetic display. "I won't keep you," he says quietly. "Have a nice day."

A sudden thought, aching, and throbbing shakes his body to the core. _Something isn't right._

"Tell me, Akira," Goro doesn't realize he spoke until Akira stops in his tracks, and turns around to look at him one more time. "Have you ever tried to get to know someone without having them perform emotional vivisection for your viewing pleasure? Are you having fun seeing me like this?"

Akira's smile is bitter and poisonous. "Well, it is showtime. Isn't it?"

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 6


	2. day two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He doesn't smile like him. He doesn't laugh like him. He doesn't talk like him._
> 
> _Goro still finds the thought both comforting and excruciatingly infuriating._

The apartment is cold. Goro’s been awake for two hours now, busying himself with being an absolute menace to his neighbors. Yet, despite his best efforts, no one bothers to knock on his door, no one calls the police, no one as much as looks in the direction of his apartment—it's like the happiness Maruki gave them, makes them blind to anything that could disturb their peace.

Goro tried everything at this point. He smashed all the windows just to see if he could get a reaction out of someone. He played Featherman episodes so loud it almost popped his eardrums. He even started shooting at the empty beer cans, one of the bullets missing the target and lodging itself in his kitchen cabinet. He curses his bad aim, even if he's still likely drunk from last night.

From the window, snowflakes make their way to the unmade bed, and he finds himself sitting right in the middle of the mess of glass and wood, barely shivering in the cold. He hates to admit that destroying his apartment, the same apartment Shido's been paying for, and now _miraculously_ , belongs to Goro, has been oddly cathartic. His phone buzzes somewhere on the nightstand. He decides he can probably handle one text from Akira, even with a slowly developing headache. 

**Akira (06:04 AM):** please meet me in leblanc after school. it’s important.

Nine hours later he’s left with ten unanswered calls and four text messages. Nothing Akira actually has to say could be important. He finishes his Featherman marathon, still not bothering to lower the volume, and eats the cold meal that he doesn't bother to microwave. The phone continues to buzz on his nightstand, and at this point, it becomes nothing but annoying background noise.

_"Why do you think we're the only ones resisting Maruki's power?" Akira asks him, sitting himself down next to Goro on a bench even if he wasn't invited. He doesn't bother to say hello, neither of them does at this point._

_"Anamnesis," Goro mutters to himself._

_"Pardon?"_

_Goro closes his mouth shut. Truth be told, he has no idea why Akira managed to resist the comfortable pull of Maruki's reality. It hardly surprises him—Akira's always been special, wasn't he? And as for Goro...Well, the explanation is rather simple. "I suppose, even as Persona users, we are different from your friends," he lies easily. "Maybe the same power makes us more resistant."_

_"I suppose," Akira mumbles unconvinced. "Have you ever heard of zombies?"_

_"What a ridiculous question," Goro scoffs. "Of course, I have. What does it have to do with anything?"_

_"Let's say it's possible that somewhere out there, a copy of you exists," Akira continues with a small smile as if he was hoping to catch Goro on a mistake. "It talks like you. Likes the same things you do. It can feel pain. It can recall your memories. But it completely lacks consciousness, so I suppose one could say, it's not you. Do you think it's possible to tell apart the real thing from a fake?"_

_"A philosophical zombie," Goro recalls, his teeth gritting just slightly at the thought of Akira besting him on his favorite subject matter. "You think these people are not themselves?"_

_"I'm not sure," Akira hums something to himself as if amused by the thought. "But if that was possible...Well, that sure would be something, don't you think?"_

Goro turns off his phone without looking at any of the messages that Akira's been desperately sending him. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth, somehow relieved that Akira isn't there to see him. Surely, Akira would never smoke a cigarette. Not with that annoying cat acting as his babysitter. It's oddly disappointing to think that if Goro decided to smoke in front of him, he probably would have let him. The fire from the lighter is enough to warm his cold hands, so for a moment he just sits there holding it in his stiff fingers. He breaths in and out—the smell of smoke always carried the rare ability to calm him down. His mother would smoke a lot, he recalls. She tried not smoking in front of him, but her clothes were always covered with the stench until Goro slowly learnt to appreciate it. The smell of the wind, the smell of her jacket, her cheap perfume—her warm, warm hands caressing his hair when he'd cling to her leg, asking her not to go.

Shido would often offer him a cigarette after a job. He didn’t smoke himself—Shido had a pristine reputation to uphold. Of course, not smoking was bad for doing business, and Shido understood as much. Goro assumes he had to smoke behind the closed doors, and yet he never smoked in front of Goro, despite always keeping one package in his drawer, for a reason he couldn't easily understand. 

He recalls a cold winter's day, just like this one. "I hear your powers are growing," Shido says like he's praising him, but Goro can sense that he's wary of what's Goro about to become. "That means you can start making yourself useful. You'll find the appropriate files on your desk next week."

Goro briefly wonders what kind of sound Shido’s bald head would make if he slapped from behind it as hard as he possibly could until it collided with the desk in front of him. “Of course, Shido-san,” he says with a polite smile. “I’ll see it done.”

"Here," Shido offers him a cigarette. "It would do you some good to relax for one minute."

“Haha, no thank you!” Goro answers in the most saccharine tone he can muster. “I can’t be a bad influence on my fans! What if someone caught me smelling like cigarettes? Besides, working for you is hardly stressful! I can't help but feel that I'm right where I belong.”

“I suppose we’re alike then,” Shido hums, emptying a glass of whiskey with a satisfied grin that Goro will take as a sign of approval. “Good call.”

Some part of him warms at the praise. _Oh, we are alike. You have no idea._ “I could never compare myself to such a wonderful man as you, Shido-san,” is what comes out of his mouth instead.

His hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. Someday he’ll grip it so hard, it will come right off.

Shido would still offer him the cigarette every time, like he was testing him, and they would replay the conversation, like actors performing in a show-stopping number. On a rare occasion when he had a day off, Goro would come home, pull out the same bottle of whiskey his father was so fond of, and spend the evening rewatching his old interviews, comparing them with Shido's speeches, and TV appearances. Goro would repeat the same phrases out loud, mimicking his father, and then spend another hour practising smiles and giggles for his next gig. It's always been easier to practice when drunk and watching Shido give an equally impressive performance on national TV was almost soothing. Goro would then spend some time simply watching his own reflection in the mirror, the makeup he would carefully put on every morning already mostly gone, revealing his tired, disgustingly average-looking face.

_He doesn't smile like him. He doesn't laugh like him. He doesn't talk like him._

Goro still finds the thought both comforting and excruciatingly infuriating.

* * *

"You have to help us," the woman says, sobbing. "If this keeps up, we will have to move out. We did hear rumors about the neighborhood, but I've never thought...My poor children. How will I explain it to them?"

"Don't worry," Akira puts the phone back into his pocket. "I told you I'd take care of it. I'm sure your husband already told you as much, but I'm a man of my word. For now, I would advise you and your family to leave Tokyo. Do you have anywhere you can stay, or should I call in some favors?"

"My sister lives in Kobe, but—"

"Stay there until the end of the week," Akira interrupts her. "It will be done by then. Trust me."

She takes one apprehensive look at the building, then looks back at Akira. Whatever resolve she finds in Akira's eyes must be enough because she simply nods, and mutters something that sounds like a thank you. Akira waits until the woman is gone to pull out his phone again. The Metaverse icon doesn't react, as expected—it sits there among other apps, the colors dark and muted, unresponsive in every possible way. He tries calling Goro again, but it goes straight to voice mail.

"Goro," Akira whispers. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not particularly happy with this update, but it is what it is.


	3. day three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Apatheia," Goro remarks as they make their way down the empty street. "Is not a bad thing in itself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some people reported that tags for this fic were not displaying correctly for some reason, so make sure you revise the tags and warnings before you continue? there should be a major character death warning and a "palace fic" tag that you should be wary of if you want to continue past this chapter. i have no clue how that happened because the tags were displaying correctly for me, so i'm very, very sorry for the inconvenience.
> 
> please let me know if there's anything else i can fix!

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. After all the time spent outside Odaiba staring at the hazy shape of the Palace, even Goro had to admit that Maruki wasn't going to come through with the deal. The conclusion was simple, and yet he hated it every time Akira would decide to needlessly state it out loud—Maruki disappeared and he wasn't going to show up ever again. Even now, his Palace stands where it’s always been in Odaiba, but from Goro managed to gather during his recon mission, it turned into a completely impenetrable fortress. While the Metaverse icon appeared to look more or less the same, the entrance to Mementos appears to be on a permanent lockdown—Maruki's handiwork no doubt—and since then, Goro hasn't been able to enter the Metaverse even once.

Akira on his part seems to deal with it by a complete denial, meticulous in his endeavours to get Goro to hang out with him. Goro hasn't been to Leblanc in months, and somehow entering the café would feel like admitting his defeat. Akira doesn't seem all to keen to work on a solution either, which in itself is infuriating. "I just don't think there's anything we can do," he says in the same monotonous tone, appearing to be much more interested in his phone than anything that Goro has to say about Maruki and his possible plans for them. Goro catches himself thinking that maybe he really _should_ quite literally slap him awake—maybe the oddly stoic mask would finally crack open to reveal the same notoriously cocky grin Goro grew to appreciate. In all truth, Goro isn't quite used to Akira who acts like nothing is ever his problem.

 _It is a problem_ , Goro wants to say, _because we had a deal_. It is a problem because Goro's done of people trying to weasel their way out of every promise that Goro shouldn't hold on to in the first place. It is a problem because Goro was supposed to be dead, and not stroll around Tokyo like a miserable ghost with the face of someone who used to be famous, surrounded by mindless masses with their faces frozen into statue-like smiles. It is a problem because Akira should be the one fighting for their freedom being the hero that he is, rather than to happily indulge in his _ennui_ —instead, the fate of the world seems to be left in the hands of a depressed murderer who has little care for what happens to others anyway. Most of all, Goro would be very happy to finally _rest,_ but taking his own life, assuming Maruki would even let it happen, would be just another confirmation of his failure.

By the time summer rolls around, Goro has more or less accepted that meeting up with Akira would become one of the few things he could look forward to. Sometimes they play chess, sometimes they discuss books that Goro's been reading out of lack of other activities that could keep his brain from deteriorating—but every time Akira extends an invitation to hang out somewhere that's not public, Goro stubbornly refuses, and even if asked, he wouldn't be able to entirely explain his logic. The same senses he spent honing all his life, now scream at him to never, ever go with whatever Akira wants—it's utterly irrational, and yet he somehow can't help but think that _something_ would inevitably change the moment he'd allow himself that brief moment of self-indulgence. 

The heat doesn't bother him the way it usually does. In truth, for a summer in Japan, it's strangely refreshing if not cold. Goro assumes that even the weather had to bow down to Maruki's will. "It shouldn't be possible," he rationalizes when Akira first suggests the idea. "Weather has nothing to do with people's hearts—even if all people in Japan wished for a cold summer, he shouldn't be able to manipulate reality to this extent."

Akira moves his bishop, leaving himself so open to Goro's onslaught that it's almost insulting. "Do you have a different theory?"

Goro wins the game with one swift movement, "Checkmate," he mutters, unable to come up with anything else. Akira looks mildly bored, slightly more tired and somehow _older_ since their last hangout. The fake reality was finally taking its toll on him, more so than it did on Goro. Akira became nothing short of apathetic, barely mentioned his friends, and would never come to meet Goro with that annoying cat of his—maybe, they had a fight? Not that it was Goro's business. "How about a walk?" he asks suddenly, and Akira simply nods.

" _Apatheia_ ," Goro remarks as they make their way down the empty street. "Is not a bad thing in itself."

When Akira doesn't pick up on the conversation, Goro rolls his eyes and decides to continue, barely satisfied with a win that comes so easily. " _Pathos_ stands for passion, while the simple 'a' prefix stands for negation. According to the Greeks, it was a state necessary to achieve _Ataraxia_ —something we would now call a state of tranquillity. One may only achieve this state by ridding themselves of unnecessary desires—love, hatred, and finally, fear of death."

Akira snorts, which at least is a reaction of some kind, so Goro decides to listen. "Somehow I can't imagine you in a sense of tranquillity."

"The feeling is mutual," Goro eyes him unimpressed, a familiar warmth settling in his chest despite his best efforts to trample it. "Are you scared of dying, Joker?"

Of course, he's not. If anyone was stupid enough not to fear death, it had to be Crow and Joker. To his surprise, Akira looks slightly more energetic upon hearing the question. "Is there a particular reason you're asking me this _now_?"

"No," Goro stops on the path as if it became obstructed by an invisible wall. "No reason whatsoever."

“Do you want me to walk you to the station?” Akira asks. "It's getting dark."

“So we’re doing this now?” Goro crosses his arms, unable to resist the urge to be contrary. "Can't play a hero to people who actually need one, so you decide to force your _services_ onto someone who has no need for them?"

“Don't you want to...go home?” Akira asks with a strange urgency. "I really don't think we should be out this late."

Goro has never wished more for gaining an access to the inside of Akira's head. "Let's walk some more."

The sun has set at some point, as people around them start gathering on the streets in meaningless excitement. The fireworks festival. Right. Different stands blink at them invitingly, seducing unsuspecting pedestrians with the lovely smell of fried festival food. Akira looks at the nearest stand selling masks, his eyes widening upon seeing the colorful merchandise—there are Featherman masks, the same kind Goro remembers from his childhood, even a few depicting the Phantom Thieves, likely from the brief time of their increased popularity a year ago. When Akira turns back to look at Goro, he looks sad in a way that makes Goro want to rip him apart. "Stop it," he says before he can't stop himself. "You're driving me insane."

Of course, Akira decides to ask the most annoying question he could possibly come up with. "Stop what?"

If they weren't in public, Goro would be happy to rip his head out—the mental image, while tempting, does little to soothe his nerves. "You've been looking at me this way ever since we made our deal," he says through gritted teeth. It's not until he spoke the words aloud that he realized how true they really were. Akira's been acting strange all this time, and while Goro would love to carry on like it's none of his business, Akira became an essential ally, and just for that, Goro needs him to snap out of whatever he's going through. "Is this about the engine room? How laughable and needlessly charitable. Get over it. I'm right here, living and breathing as you can see. You can stop looking at me like I'm going to break."

"Some time ago, I came to see fireworks with my friends," Akira recalls conversationally, the night sky reflecting in his equally dark eyes. "We didn't get to see much. It was crowded and then to make matters worse, it suddenly started raining. I'm relieved to see this year's far less crowded."

"I suppose people have other things to do with their lobotomised—" Goro stops mid-word. "You're trying to change the subject. Do you not care to at least provide me with a suitable rebuttal?" 

Is Goro not his rival anymore? Has he too grew to be so so mundane that Akira doesn't bother to spare him a second glance? Does Goro not deserve to be _wantedperceivedrespected_? The thoughts continue to rush through his head in a relentless staccato until Akira grabs his wrist to stop him from spiralling out of control. "You're jumping to unnecessary conclusions, so I decided not to pursue the matter. I'm just trying to help you." 

Lies. Goro, like every good liar, hates other liars with a burning passion. “Why do you keep pretending you want me around?” Goro snarls, the heat slowly climbing its way up to his spine—it's similar to when he used to let Loki take over, filling every bone in his body with unstoppable hatred. Loki, who abandoned him like everyone else, Loki who grew tired of Goro's everyday charade of playing pretend in this disgusting mundanity. “Why do you stick around and then look at me like you’re better than me?”

“Is this how you really feel, Goro?” Akira asks, somehow defeated. 

Goro doesn’t remember when they started using first names. It doesn’t matter. “Is this because you’ve seen the real me? Am I really so disgusting that you can’t even look at me?”

“Goro,” Akira says his name like it’s a warning. " _Stop_."

“Why did you leave me?! Why couldn’t you just stick around to see me make something of myself?! We would’ve been okay! If you loved me more, if you gave a damn...I could have been so happy if you were still in my life.”

Akira's arms wrap around him, safe and secure, his heartbeat loud and steady against Goro's chest. It's like trying to relearn how to breathe—it takes him a few attempts, but eventually, he manages to match Akira's tempo. Goro focuses on the little things—Akira's hand on his back moving up and down to pull him in some sort of tranquil trance, the warmth of his body that seems to soothe the ache he didn't know he was feeling. When Akira speaks again, Goro can barely hear him through the clattering of his own teeth. “Goro, you’re okay. I’m with you. Snap out of it.”

The heat raging through Goro's body, paralyzing him from the inside, subsides enough, for him to say, “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Why would he say all these things? Who was he talking to? Why is he here? Why is _Joker_ here? 

When is this going to end?

“We can pretend it never happened,” Akira says comfortingly. “Would that make you feel better?”

Goro nods, too numb to do much else. Akira’s still holding him, and Goro lets himself relax, pressed tightly against Akira's chest to the point it becomes too hard to breathe. Finally, he pulls away, the almost too familiar cold quickly settling in his bones once again. He wipes away the angry tears that he didn’t realize were spilling. “Just let me go,” he whispers in a moment of clarity. “Stop torturing me.”

“I can’t just yet,” Akira shakes his head, before pulling something from behind his back. “This is for you.”

Goro eyes the plush toy like it’s a ticking bomb. “What is this?”

“I won this for you at one of the stands,” Akira says with strange desperation. “Please take it.”

The fireworks blow over their heads. In the most cliché scenario that Goro never agreed to, the time stopped for the two of them. Akira’s eyes, pleading and trying to convey something Goro could never understand, stare at him through the frozen crowd. Cheerful sounds of people commenting on the fireworks show, the children screaming, and—no, it shouldn’t be possible, he shouldn’t be able to hear Akira’s sharp intake of breath—they all explode in Goro’s skull in the most insufferable cacophony.

He should be asking Akira when he managed to get him this ridiculous thing without leaving Goro's side. He should be asking why they choose to do the same mundane things every day rather than to find their way out of this mess. As he's about to open his mouth, something about Akira's expression stops him—a powerful and overwhelming presence, even if he just stands there, watching Goro almost nonchalantly from behind his fan. He’s wearing...a yukata? They both are. Goro has no idea why he decided to come along in the first place.

“No,” Goro lets the toy drop onto the ground before walking away. “Like I’d ever accept anything from you.”

“Goro,” Akira’s sharp voice stops him in his tracks. For a moment, his eyes are the only bright thing in Goro's peripheral vision. “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing since last spring?”

Goro barely spares him a second glance. “I have no time for your nonsense. Stop calling me. Stop looking for me. This is a goodbye.”

The sound of his geta is oddly comforting on the empty street— _clack, clack, clack,_ like an otherworldly drum inside of his skull. Even if he's aware of Akira's eyes staring daggers at him, he walks away, hands tightened into fists, eyes focused on the ground in front of him—he’s tired of seeing other people. He’s tired of Akira’s hero-complex-powered mercy, and finally, Goro’s extremely tired of being himself.

If he looked up for a moment on his way home, he would have realized that all this time, he was completely alone.

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 4


	4. day four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Some people believe that our world has been abandoned by gods," Goro tells the non-existent Akira sitting across the table. "I wonder what they'd say if I told them that it's only been abandoned by a mediocre high school therapist."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added warning for mild sexual content, because i completely forgot that goro akechi does in fact get laid in this one. good for him!

"A world where no one can die is an insult to an accomplished assassin," Goro says to himself after throwing his fifth cigarette from the balcony. So far he has been mostly unsuccessful in his attempts to add arson to the list of his various crimes, unless one could be kind enough to count the toasts he burns on a daily basis. He did improve his aim though—if he keeps it up, maybe he could have the cigarettes spell out _Fuck Maruki_ by the end of the year. 

That and more ideas that he'd normally associate with the brilliant minds of Sakamoto and Takamaki, cross Goro's mind once he's done going through the contents of the local library. All that's left is five more episodes of Featherman he still can't quote by heart, and the few chess games he started with the Akira that apparently now lives only in his head. Some of them, Akira even wins, as he turns out to be a far more superior adversary than the real thing. 

So far Goro's been too stubborn to text Akira, and after what he assumes to be a completely rational fit of anger, he refuses to go anywhere near Leblanc. In fact, most of the time he doesn't even leave his apartment unless he's run out of cigarettes and whiskey—the lack of medical consequences seems to be one of the few perks of the new reality, though it does little to diminish his equally painful hangovers. In the pristine world free of the pain of suffering, Goro still treasures every headache and wave of nausea as the most precious proof of being alive, while not having to think about Maruki's whereabouts and Akira's surprisingly stubborn radio silence proves to be the best deal alcohol can buy.

It definitely does play a big part in the grand collapse of Goro Akechi's mind, however.

For most of his life, Goro's been surrounded by people—other kids in group homes, journalists, people from Shido's circle, his obnoxious fans—it wasn't until he'd get home that he could finally get some peace and quiet. Goro never considered other people to be virtually crucial for dispelling his loneliness—he craved their attention and approval, but their company had ever been unwelcome. Yet, as seasons change, even Goro has to admit that telling Akira to leave him alone might have been the stupidest thing he's ever done. 

By every definition of the world, Goro's been abandoned. _Again_.

"Some people believe that our world has been abandoned by gods," Goro tells the non-existent Akira sitting across the table. "I wonder what they'd say if I told them that it's only been abandoned by a mediocre high school therapist. Do you think they'd find it comforting?"

Unsurprisingly, the spirit conjured up by Goro's drunken mind does not reply. Nothing emptying the bottle can't fix, surely. With that in mind, Goro takes another sip of his drink. "In any case, I hope the motherfucker is miserable, wherever he is. If I could tell him to go fuck himself every day for the rest of my life, I would still consider it a lifetime worth of living."

The fake Akira kindly informs him about the knock on the door that Goro somehow failed to hear. Even in that, he proved to be more useful than Joker. Perhaps Goro never needed the real Akira in the first place.

—which is exactly why Akira Kurusu chooses this exact moment to show up in his doorway. For a moment, both of them just stand there engaging in what, on Goro's part at least, turns out to be the most vicious staring contest, until Akira forfeits their little game by blinking in surprise—which may or not may have something to do with Goro swaying dangerously due to the brief lapse in concentration that standing upright now apparently requires. Even though his drunk mind continues to whisper ideas in Sakamoto's voice that now seem more tempting than ever, Goro still manages to stop himself from poking Akira in an attempt to uncover an impostor.

Now focusing all his efforts on keeping himself from slurring words, Goro decides to ask. “What are you doing here?”

Akira lets himself in, closing the door behind him—Goro feels like should try to protest, but at the same time he feels like should puke instead, so he decides to keep his mouth shut. “You’re the one who invited me,” Akira pulls out his phone to show the text message to Goro. The message is short, including nothing more than two words along with Goro’s address:

 **Akechi (3:07 AM):** come over

 _Traitor_ , Goro tells his past self. After being presented with undeniable proof, he pretends to be nonchalant by crossing his arms and leaning against the wall to hide the fact the room is still spinning. “What time is it?”

“Just a little after four,” Akira says after a small pause, eyeing Goro's pose with a slight amount of amusement. “I got here as fast as I could.”

After four—so the trains shouldn't be running yet. “Did you...walk all this way?” Goro asks suspiciously. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Akira rolls his eyes. “I'll happily take part in your interrogation tomorrow. Now let’s get you to bed.”

At that, another voice, one that Goro hasn't been too familiar with so far, takes over. 

_(It's now or never. You don't want to be lonely anymore, do you?)_

He really doesn't.

Akira makes a beautifully startled sound, like a helpless victim that he is, when Goro pins him to the wall, using more strength than was probably necessary. He wastes no time unbuttoning Akira's shirt, lips on his neck trailing down until they stop at his exposed collarbone. He's aware of the pathetic moans he's letting out, so painfully delighted by the feeling of _warmth_ pressed against his body, shiver at the smallest touch, and the briefest brush of their skin. Akira goes perfectly still under him—barely even breathing, his lips refusing to part once Goro desperately presses against them.

“Hold me,” Goro mutters against Akira’s mouth with an impatient groan. “I know you want to.”

“I don’t," Akira sighs, putting some distance between their bodies. "And if you think you want me, that’s still whiskey speaking. Get a hold of yourself.”

"Whiskey has nothing to do with what I want," Goro says stubbornly even if it does.

“You’re drunk,” Akira informs him needlessly and gently peels Goro’s hands off his body. “We'll talk about it once you sober up."

"Look at you," Goro laughs bitterly before throwing himself on the bed. Akira watches him strip, still completely stone-faced, like he's been invited to a movie he never wanted to see in the first place. "Hope your therapist rewards you with a little gold star for your noble efforts in keeping me from losing my virginity in the foulest of circumstances. Because _surely_ , drunk sex would be the worst to ever happen to me."

Akira shrugs off his jacket. He doesn't say anything for a while, going through Goro's cabinets, until he finds two empty glasses. He fills both of them with water and only speaks again once Goro's drank his fill. "It's not about being noble."

Goro licks his still parched lips—he didn't even realize just how much he needed something so simple. "Then what difference does it make?"

“The difference is,” Akira says slowly as he covers Goro's naked body with a soft blanket. “That once upon a time, I would give anything to kiss you, drunk or sober. You only want to do this with me when you’re drunk.”

“You make it sound like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me drunk,” Goro points out but if he's being fair, he can hardly comprehend the implications of Akira's words. It doesn't matter anyway. He stretches, with Akira's eyes hungry and wide open—he notes with satisfaction—still on him, even if he keeps a respectable distance. He feels light, he feels beautiful, he feels like life just got much simpler. Is this what it's like to feel wanted? 

“Stay,” Goro whispers in a moment of weakness, or perhaps, for once, bravery. “Don’t leave me here alone. Not again.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Akira insists, and Goro finds himself unable to argue. With his light steps echoing on the floor, Goro finally feels safe enough to close his eyes without feeling scared of what he'll find when he opens them again.

* * *

Nothing's in Goro's life has ever been this peaceful.

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and curry. A plush cat, the same one Akira tried to give to him during the fireworks festival months ago sits there on the nightstand, staring at him with its yellow eyes until Goro has to force himself to look away. From the bed, he gets a perfect view of the kitchen—Akira’s back as he cooks the meal, the sound of his voice humming a song Goro’s heard before, and a gentle smile on his face as if he's actually happy to be here. In a different reality, Goro thinks, he could wake up like this every day. He could walk right over, brush Akira’s lips against his, and then they could forget about the world until the smell of burnt curry reminds them of their place.

Goro should get up. He should be…doing _something_ , trying to find _someone_ , get out of _somewhere_. Instead, he lets himself sink in deeper into the mattress, letting the sound of Akira's cooking lull him back to sleep.

When he wakes up again, he’s fully dressed and Akira is there with another glass of water and painkillers. Perhaps he's better than the fake, after all. "Drink up," he says, keeping his voice down. "I'll heat up the curry for you in the meantime."

“I prefer when my food is cold,” Goro grabs his wrist to stop him. "It tastes...better this way. Besides, I'm not sick, and you don't have to take care of me. I can take my own food."

"That's a little controversial," Akira cocks his head to the side. "Curry should be eaten when boiling hot—according to Sojiro at least."

Controversial or not, he'd take his mother's cold meals over the ones he microwaved for himself anytime. He decides not to share that information with Akira, however. 

Akira suffers from what Goro likes to call the servant's disease. He seems to be so used to do things for other people that Goro's refusal made him downright uncomfortable. It takes two minutes of him standing awkwardly in the corner while wiggling his fingers until Goro finally breaks. "Actually, coffee would be nice."

"Coming right up," Akira says with a small grin. It feels weird to play house, but after all this time, Goro can no longer resist even the smallest of temptations. Akira drinks his coffee while Goro finishes the curry, and then they wash the dishes together. For another hour, they don't exchange a single word. With Akira at his side, for once, Goro doesn't mind the silence.

They kiss in silence too, with all the words that should be left unspoken hanging in the air.

( _I can't love you, but I'll always want you._ )

He lets Akira undress him, pleasure him, until he comes undone from the lightest of touches. He has no desire to return the favor, but Akira doesn't seem to expect it. He cleans up, as Goro turns to his side pretending to be asleep. When Akira slides into the bed, still dressed and half-hard, it's Goro's turn to turn completely still. Akira makes a sound, probably a chuckle, happy that he caught Goro on the smallest lie, his gentle hand brushing the hair out of his face. 

“I wish I could keep you here forever,” Akira says in the sweetest voice. “My lost little lamb.”

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 3


	5. day five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Willingly and foolishly, Goro lets his heart unravel._

During the single night with Akira, Goro learns more things than he did in a lifetime.

It's gentle—Akira's hands trailing down Goro's spine, trying to recall every—

—it's warm, with his breath right in Goro's ear, whispering—

—they're happy—Akira's hair tickling the tip of Goro's nose until he sneezes and—

Akira's hands running through Goro's hair.

  
Goro's teeth pulling at Akira's bottom lip.

  
Steady heartbeat under his fingertips. Calming, like a lullaby.

Is this what it's like to wake up next to someone in a bed that is warm and welcoming, in arms that remain open and wanting?

Is this what it's like to feel alive, and in love, and stupid enough to forget?

Willingly and foolishly, Goro lets his heart unravel.

* * *

Akira looks comfortable in Goro's sweatpants, his bare chest rising and falling with steady breaths that Goro finds himself counting with utmost fascination. There's a small sad smile playing on his lips whenever he looks at Goro, playing with the edge of Goro's underwear, the thought of undressing him still tempting after last night. Still, in comparison to yesterday, Akira appears to be in low-spirits, barely listening when Goro speaks to him, and trailing off without finishing a sentence on the rare occasion he does respond.

Goro asks him then, chin resting on his hand, an unlit cigarette rolling between his fingers. "What's on your mind?"

There's a small pause, the wheels of Akira's brain turning almost audibly in a search of a suitable answer. "This and that," Akira takes off his glasses. Somehow it makes him look younger and more vulnerable. A rare appearance of Joker without his mask. Goro decides to enjoy every second of it. He straddles Akira, who reluctantly places his hands on Goro's hips, nails digging into the sensitive skin of his back. "You're on my mind a lot, too."

Goro likes being on Akira's mind—the discovery is so freeing that Goro has to kiss him. When they part, he lifts the cigarette and looks at Akira expectantly. "Light this for me?"

Akira reaches for the lighter on the nightstand. His hand clumsily knocks down the glasses he left right next to it, and they fall to the floor with a small _crack_. Are glasses really all that fragile? Should they break when falling from such a small height? Goro realizes he asked out loud when Akira lets out an impatient sigh. "Not really. But things like that happen. It's fine, it's not like I actually need them."

He lights Goro's cigarette, running his hand up and down Goro's bare sides. It tickles but Goro does his best not to squirm, watching Akira through the smoke. "Open your mouth," Goro commands suddenly.

Akira does so, obediently, and Goro presses his cold fingertips to the underside of his jaw to pull his head back. He breaths in the smoke into Akira's willing mouth, closing the distance between their mouths. Akira coughs. It's a checkmate. "Disgusting," he states, like it's a challenge. "Isn't it?" 

"There are worse things in this world than the morning breath of a smoker," Akira pinches his skin painfully. "Hardly any, but Morgana could easily beat you by yawning into your face after eating tuna."

Something in Goro's brain refuses to wrap around the name. Morgana. He was— 

"You remember Morgana, don't you, Goro?" Akira asks in a gentle voice, but Goro isn't easily fooled. It's an interrogation. Like a facility on a high alarm, Goro's entire body enters a lockdown mode, and he climbs off Akira's body, the cigarette butt dropping to the floor.

'Why are you asking me this?" Goro asks sharply. "When did you start using my first name? Why the hell are we—"

**Akira is holding me close against his chest.**

"Stop it. Who's saying it?"

( _I want to keep you here forever._

_Charming. Are you still drunk?_

_Goro, I'm...I'm not ready to say goodbye to you just yet._

_Akira. It's time.)_

**He loves me.**

"He doesn't!"

( _You were loved, do you understand? You were wanted, Goro._

 _Please, just hold me. Don't leave me alone_.)

**Did I love him back?**

"I did...didn't I?"

( _Careful, it's hot._

 _I don't mind. If it's your food, I'm—_ )

**It's cold again. But I'm not alone this time.**

**His arms are around me.**

**He wants me.**

**He _loves_ me.**

**And I love him back.**

"Do you remember how much time passed since our last infiltration in Maruki's Palace?" Akira's voice asks somewhere at the edge of the universe. "Do you know how long you've been here with me?"

( _Crow, be careful out there._

_Don't underestimate me. I don't need to be careful._

_Then...come back to me?_

_You're really... Fine. You can count on me, Joker._ )

At first, it's like one of those feelings when you want to sit down, and discover that the chair wasn't exactly where you expected it to be. Then the ground itself cracks open, swallowing him up, and pulling him deeper and deeper into the unknown. Something in Goro's stomach leaps dangerously and then drops all the way to the bottom, his heart, his mind, the very core of his existence slipping through his fingers between falling into the abyss.

How could he forget? How could he be in so much denial? All of this...was it real? _What_ is real?

"I don't get it," Goro hears himself saying. Someone uses his voice to speak, to move, to think. He's all alone. Isn't he? Akira shouldn't even be here. "Who are you?"

And this voice—

~~Robin Hood? Loki? Both of them?~~

"Goro, think about it," Akira shakes him. " _Really_ think about everything that's happened so far."

**They say that just when you're about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.**

( _Goro, let's go see a movie—the one you told me so much about. Wouldn't it be nice?_

_I don't want to._

_Are you still mad at me for missing your birthday? You know I had to work._

_You always have to work when it's my birthday._

_It's...I just want to spend more time with you. Forgive me? This one last time._

_You don't even care about getting to know me! Stay away from me!_

_Goro!_

_I hate you! I don't want to spend another day with you!)_

**My memories of her**

( _Goro, I told you to go to the bathhouse._

_Mommy, are you okay? Did this man...hurt you?_

_Stop looking at me with his eyes! Get out, Goro! Go play somewhere else!_

_Mommy..._

_Get out!_

_You're wrong! I'm nothing like dad! I would never hurt you! I would never leave you!_

_Don't make me repeat myself._

_Mommy, please...please, don't make me go.)_

**Her sacrifice**

( _Are you having fun, Goro? We can finally see the fireworks together._

_I want to go home._

_Not so fast! Wait here for a moment. Don't go anywhere, mommy will be right back._

_...what is that?_

_A kitten to protect you. You always wanted one, didn't you?_

_I don't want it._

_Goro..._

_Like I'd ever accept anything from you!)_

**I'm not ready to face her just yet.**

( _Sleep well, my sweet little lamb. I'll be here when you wake up.)_

Goro's quick to grab the gun from under his pillow. For the first time in years, he feels like himself, the fog around his head gone like a bad dream. Akira doesn't look surprised—his stoic expression betraying that it's very likely the exact course of action he predicted. "This is pointless," he says with a hint of resignation, barely looking at the gun. "What are you hoping to achieve?"

"Who are you?" Goro doesn't lower his gun, every cell in his body screaming at him to fight for survival. If he has to kill the person in front of him to save himself...save this. He has to, doesn't he? Because he's not ready. 

"You need to calm down," Akira barely opens his mouth, wary of Goro's every movement. "You need to snap out of this loop! I'm...ah, shit."

It's too late and Goro hangs on to his every word. " _Loop_?"

"You...I can't tell you," Akira has never looked so pathetically sad. Goro wants to rip every limb off his body. "You need to realize it yourself. Otherwise...I really won't be able to help you."

"Tell me, or I'm going to shoot you where you stand," Goro snarls. "Are you _him_? Have you been _him_ this whole time?"

"You think I'm Maruki?" Akira tightens his lips. "I suppose you've always been a little delusional."

"Then why the fuck are you in my head?" The gun just barely shakes in his grip. "How are you manipulating me?"

Akira hides his face in his hands, breathing heavily. "I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

"So you really are—"

"No, Goro," Akira sighs to let out some pent-up frustration. "Nothing about me is abnormal. It's you. It's always been you. You're the one in charge in this place. Don't you see it? The way you've been going through the motions? Repeating the same actions over and over again? Have you noticed how none of these people interact with you? Have you ever wondered why it's just me here? Why I'm never around my friends? How come the time just passes and yet neither of us gets older? Just _think_."

A sudden wave of calm rushes through his body. A cold rational voice, his own this time, tells him to do exactly what Akira just told him to do.

 _Think_. Alright, then. How much time _did_ pass? It should be...it should be at least five years. And yet, here they are—wearing their school uniforms, looking as young as ever. It shouldn't possible. Unless...unless his perception of time itself has been altered. Unless he's already—

Akira looks on the verge of tears. "Do you see it now?"

Before Goro can answer, Akira just laughs bitterly. "No, of course, you don't. We've been through this over and over. And then we always get back to square one."

A warning shot. It cuts through the air right next to Akira's ear before lodging itself into the well behind them—if Akira moved an inch, he would have been dead. "I'm done listening to your bullshit. I want answers. Now."

"A perfect reconstruction of reality," Akira says flatly, ignoring Goro's outrage like he's just a harmless kid waving a toy gun. "How would you know any of this is real? Could you ever _really_ know?"

The sheer stupidity of the question actually freezes Goro in his steps. "Of course, it's not real, we're inside Maruki's—"

"And where is Maruki?" Akira asks impatiently. "Come on. You're so close now."

"How the fuck should I know?"

"Maruki is currently imprisoned," Akira tells him. "I made sure he would be, after everything that happened. After everything, he's done to you. And his reality...we destroyed it on February 3rd according to the plan. Everything is back to normal—at least on my end."

"Are you trying to obtuse?" Goro asks to hide the fear of what he's always known, deep down, hidden in his own _Anamnesis_. "Stop speaking nonsense. How is _this_ normal?"

"How can I _not_ speak nonsense?" Akira laughs hysterically. "I don't know who you are. The Goro Akechi I know has been dead for three years. And somehow, we're inside his Palace."

* * *

**Forced to relive your worst nightmares.**

**Over and over again.**

**Tell me, Crow.**

**Are you enjoying the afterlife?**

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i'm sure you've seen that coming.
> 
> but i'm still sorry.


	6. day six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'I did well', Akira thinks maybe for the first time._
> 
> _It's been so long since his hands were useful for something other than killing._

_The familiar jingle of the bell rings through the silent café, empty except for its grumpy owner. The tables are kept meticulously clean, not at all because of Leblanc's tender caretaker, but rather the complete lack of vast clientele. Maybe it's for a good reason too. To an outsider, the place has to appear rather ordinary—the only eye-catching elements being a beautiful, somehow familiar painting next to the entrance and perhaps the flashy pink apron of the owner. No one would ever suspect that the same place once served as a hideout to a most interesting group of teenagers. The newcomer, however, is very much aware of that fact._

_"Sorry, but we're actually about to—" Sojiro puts down the newspaper, and the coffee cup he held in his other hand drops on the ground with a loud crack._

_"It's been a while," Akira says with a small smile. "Will you spare a single plate of curry for the weary traveler?"_

_He expects Sojiro to throw him out, yell at him for vanishing after all the hard work it took to get him out of the detention center in the first place. He's everything Sojiro expected he would be—a high school dropout, a delinquent, constantly on the run. And for a split second, he can see all these accusations flashing through the old man's face. He looks much older than Akira's remembered him. According to Futaba, no one was even allowed to mention Akira's name when visiting Leblanc._

_That's why Akira doesn't expect Sojiro to pull him into a tight hug. "You stupid, stupid brat," he sobs. "Of course, there's a plate of curry for you. There isn't anything in this world I wouldn't give to you."_

_"What's this?" Akira snorts to hide his embarrassment. "Time turned you sentimental, old man? Shouldn't you lecture me by now? Threaten to throw me out?"_

_Sojiro steps back to take a long look at Akira's face—his stern gaze, full of cold determination, a sharp edge to his jaw that wasn't there before, and lips pulled tight into a scowl. He might be taller and skinnier, but there's more muscle where there used to be nothing but skin and bone. Akira looks much older than someone who just entered his early twenties. "I suppose it's because you're not a kid anymore," Sojiro sniffles. "I have no right to lecture you."_

_Akira looks at his hands for a moment, flexing his fingers around something that isn't there. "No. I'm definitely not a kid anymore."_

_He lets Sojiro sit him down, taking in the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm curry. Everything is perfect, just the way he remembered it. Even though the weight of everything Akira's done until now hangs heavily between them, Sojiro doesn't ask about the last two years of his life. Instead, he simply observes the man in front of him, looking carefully for any signs of the cocky kid he used to know._

_Once he's done, he reaches to his pocket to take out his wallet, leaving the money along with an overly generous tip on the counter. Sojiro doesn't ask where he got so much money. It's one of the nicest things about Sojiro—he never asks. "Are you trying to insult me?"_

_"I'm just paying you for your service," Akira says stiffly, getting up in a hurry before he feels too tempted to stay. "I should be on my way."_

_Sojiro would never stop him, even if the perspective of never seeing Akira again would break his heart all over again. Akira knows Sojiro's kindness by now, but even so, he cannot comprehend why the man always forgives him so easily, as if he didn't spend the last two, almost three years, putting Futaba in constant danger. "Is it done?" Sojiro asks after a pause. "Whatever you've set out to do?"_

_It's the question that does it. Akira stops in his tracks, with one hand already on the doorknob. After all his experiences, he learned to be less impatient, carefully calculating all his plans. Still, with Sojiro staring holes into his back, he cannot help but consider another possibility. He takes three deep breaths. Then thinks about it again. When he turns around, his mind is all but made up. "Actually," he says quietly. "It appears I have one last job to do, not too far from here. Do you know about any places where I could stay?"_

_Sojiro lets out a relieved sigh. "I suppose one place comes to mind. You might not like it though—it's hardly comfortable. The kid who used to live was a big fan of dust and spiders."_

_For the first time in ages, Akira cannot help but let out a quiet laugh. "Very well. But is it a problem if I bring a very needy cat to live with me?"_

_"I prefer cats over humans," Sojiro states, and Akira silently agrees._

_He spends the next few weeks renovating the attic—he refuses to accept help from anyone, putting all his frustration into sawing, cutting, drilling, and painting. Sojiro never complains about the noise, and with time, Akira learns to accept some of his advice. He's been on his own for so long, with no one but Morgana and Futaba helping him out remotely during the more tedious jobs, he could barely recall what it's like to cooperate with another human being._

_Sojiro doesn't ask about the scars on Akira's body, but he knows a gunshot wound when he sees one._

_Once it's done, Akira sleeps. He sleeps for almost three days, making up for all the time he spent wandering the streets of Japan's largest cities like a vengeful spirit. When he wakes up, he takes one look at the attic, and for the first time in years, feels somehow content. The attic is much brighter now, with a small bathroom, and still enough space to contain Akira's equipment, books, and the old jazz records he stole from Goro's place._

_'I did well', Akira thinks maybe for the first time._

_It's been so long since his hands were useful for something other than killing._

* * *

Goro wraps his hands around the warm cup of coffee. It smells nice—it must be Goro's favorite blend from Leblanc. "This seems rather unnecessary," he informs Akira bitterly. "I'm quite certain I no longer need to eat or drink."

Akira doesn't say anything in reply, his hands very careful not to brush against Goro's. He's quick to put distance between them, choosing to lean against the window instead. Ten minutes later, they're still standing on the opposite sides of Goro's room, refusing to look at each other, whatever illusion that had them becoming intimate before now gone without a trace. On his part, Goro feels more like himself—his memory isn't quite back yet, but at least his mind is no longer foggy. The voice in his head has mostly quieted down, even if his heart continuous to beat faster whenever he looks at Akira, in the cruelest of ironies.

Still, his unresolved feelings had to wait. It's just another investigation, isn't it? And as long as he's still around, Goro will always be a detective. That's why he needs to do what he can to gather the necessary evidence. "I have some questions I would like you to answer," he says calmly. "Think of it as another deal—your honesty in exchange for my cooperation."

"Sounds fair," Akira barely moves his lips as he speaks, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Goro grits his teeth to stop himself from another outburst. He has no idea _what_ he is, or how powerful he is, and it seems like he has more difficulty keeping his emotions in check than he did when he was still alive.

The anger seems rather irrational as well—is it really so difficult to accept that Akira might distrust him? Considering what's happened so far, it seemed only fair. Still, he didn't seem to mind as much when he was in Goro's bed, with Goro nice and pliant under his touch—did he enjoy Goro's obedience a little too much?

 _There_ , Goro pinpoints. That's what makes him so angry. The fact that he is a Goro Akechi, but not the Goro Akechi Akira loved, and yet, Akira still used him for his selfish needs. Perhaps, he should resolve that issue first. "You said you don't know who I am. I think it's safe to assume that I'm not exactly fully capable of discerning truth from a lie. That I may, in fact, be....a little delusional."

Something changes in Akira's posture, but he doesn't move or acknowledge him. Goro decides to continue, "Knowing all that, why did you approach me?"

"Because I wanted to," Akira answers simply. He pauses for a moment, likely realizing Goro's intent. "It's like we've discussed before. Do you still remember that? A perfect copy, lacking all but consciousness? Goro Akechi may be dead, but I can't deny that you resemble him. In truth, you might just be him. I can't say I fully understand your world and its rules, it's based on assumption."

"What am I then?" Goro feels his lips tighten. "A Shadow?"

"Dead people don't have Shadows," Akira shakes his head. "Your eyes are quite normal, too."

"You're certain it's my Palace," Goro says. _And not yours_ , is what he wants to add.

"It seemed to be connected to your memories," Akira lifts the plush cat off Goro's nightstand. "Rather personal ones, too. It answers to your every whim, whether it's conscious on your part or not. So yes, I would say that it's definitely your Palace."

There was one other possibility then. "And you're sure...I'm dead?" 

Akira faces him then, and Goro almost wishes he wouldn't. "Yeah," he says harshly. "I'm sure."

It's uncomfortable to see the raw emotions on Akira's face—it's like something that wasn't meant for his eyes. That's right, that grief was meant for the real Akechi. The real Akechi who Akira wants to kiss, and love, and keep in his bed. The Akechi who'd appreciate his coffee and a hot meal, who needs it to live, and function. The Akechi who's dead and left Akira one parting gift—the little anomaly who longs for Akira's warmth so desperately that it wouldn't hesitate to destroy the world.

Goro presses his fingertips against his temple to keep himself grounded. “Let's keep going," he mutters, ignoring Akira's worried stare. "I feel like we should start from the beginning. How big is this Palace?"

“Big,” Akira takes a look around before rephrasing. “Most of Tokyo, from what I've gathered. I call it a Palace out of the lack of a better term. I can't be sure what it is but it resembles one. And we're definitely in the Metaverse, though so far I wasn't able to summon my Persona. I suppose you don't see me as a threat just yet.”

It shouldn't be possible. Dead or alive, Goro shouldn't be able to have a Palace, _period_. But they've already established that this place simply resembles a Palace—it might very well not be one. There's no point dwelling on it until they gather further evidence. “Why didn’t you tell me?" he decides to ask. "Why didn't you help me realize I'm dead?”

“Like I said, you're going through a loop," Akira says. "Even if I did tell you, you'd likely just forget. It might be your mind trying to protect you from the truth, it might be something else. Besides, I didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. For all I knew, making you realize you were dead could have made you disappear, or—”

“Isn’t that the fucking point?” Goro spits. “I want you to get me out of this. _Make me_ disappear. You're a Phantom Thief, aren't you? Steal my cold, no-longer-beating heart, and be done with it."

"It's not that simple," Akira mutters. "I've been busy, too."

Something about the way Akira said it, sparks Goro's curiosity. "What have you been doing all this time then?"

Akira is a bad liar. He always has been. "Traveling," he replies evasively. 

“Was it fun?” Goro can’t keep the venom out of his voice, hoping to infect Akira with his misery, to make him feel sick from the guilt. This is what he gets for not loving him. This is what he gets for loving this other Akechi. “Going on your little sabbatical, and then popping in here from time to time to fuck a corpse?”

Akira doesn't answer for a moment, and when he does, his voice is ice cold. "You seem awfully cocky for someone who suffers from constant memory loss. If I were you, I would refrain from judgment until you know the whole story."

Goro opens his mouth to form the words that wouldn't come. Did Akira just put him in his place? "Now with that out of the way," Akira continues once he's sure he won't be interrupted. "Let us continue. I've already told you I wanted to make sure that Maruki pays. Luckily, he didn't put up much of a fight. Sae helped a lot too."

Was Maruki the one to kill him then? Goro figures that even if asked Akira wouldn't answer, so he decides to play along."How do you even begin to unfold a case like this one in court?"

"It wasn't easy to prove that Maruki is guilty of anything," Akira admits reluctantly. "He felt largely responsible for your death, and he even tried turning himself in, but it didn't work. He made up some story about how he became your stalker and murdered you. It was a bit of a scandal for a time, but it quieted down by now."

"Did they buy it?" Goro can't help but snort. "Never thought even our law-enforcement would prove to be so stupid."

"There was a body," Akira says. "A culprit. A witness. The system happily accepted such a generous offering."

Goro freezes at that. A body. _His_ body. And—"A witness?"

"I did what had to be done," Akira says, like it explains everything. "He's behind bars now, as he should be. It doesn't matter."

 _It does matter_ , Goro wants to argue. Why would Maruki happily accept his sentence? What has Akira done? What happened during all the time he was gone? 

"After that, I did a little tour of Japan," Akira continues. "Hunting the remnants of Shido's conspiracy. Two years later, I've heard rumors about strange events in Tokyo. All seemed to occur in places directly connected to you. People claiming to hear strange voices, flashes of light, buildings would appear and disappear. Soon, these places gained the reputation of being haunted."

"How did you even find out about this place?" Goro asks then. 

Akira simply pulls out a phone from his pocket. "The way we always do. The Metanav showed me the way."

* * *

_"Thank you all for meeting me on such short notice," Haru says apologetically. "I'm going to cut straight to the chase. One of my employees recently moved into a new apartment. Soon, his wife started complaining about strange noises from the place next door, but when they asked the landlord, they said it's been empty for some time now. You see, no one wants to move in because they believe the place is—um, I believe the word they used was haunted."_

_"Haunted?" Makoto repeats in an unnaturally high voice. "S-surely, it can't be true?"_

_"That's what I thought too," Haru nods with furrowed brows."Except, the same employee suddenly vanished without a trace. He's been nothing but diligent so far, so it got me worried, and then um, I decided to visit his apartment. And the address, well—"_

_"It's in the same building as the apartment where Akechi used to live," Akira speaks up suddenly. "Right next door, in fact."_

_No one dares to look at him. Their ex-leader barely agrees to meet up with them anymore. There's a sharp edge to him that wasn't there before, the relentlessness he developed on his little hunt. They're not scared of him exactly, yet it's nothing but strange to see someone change so drastically. Not that anyone blamed him._

_'It's like he's trying to keep Akechi alive by acting like him,' Ann said once when she thought Akira wouldn't hear her._

_"Your employee is fine," Akira continues calmly. "I've spoken to him yesterday. I told his wife to stay at her sister's place in Kobe, I imagine he joined her. I'm sorry he didn't inform you about his plans, but I assure you, they're safe."_

_"I assume you're not going to tell us what's it about?" Ryuji says with a hint of bitterness, playing with his phone without actually looking at it. "You just gonna up and vanish on us again?"_

_"I was going to ask for your help," Akira opposes, his voice slightly gentler this time. "But sadly, it appears that I'm the only one who can handle it. Quite literally, in fact. T_ _hat's why I wanted to show you this."_

_They all lean forward to look at Akira's screen. "The Metanav," Yusuke says grimly. "How is this possible?"_

_"It looks different too," Akira nods, pointing to the black icon. The familiar eye of the Nav remains closed, its white shade contrasting with the dark background. "Other than the visual side, it works more or less the same—except I don't seem to be able to access Mementos. I asked Futaba to hack your phones for me, but none of you seem to have it. And at the time, I wasn't sure what I was dealing with."_

_"Sorry," Futaba mumbles, sinking into the couch. "I'm sorry but it's slightly easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission. And I was curious, too."_

_"And what did you find out?" Ann places her hand on Akira's shoulder. "We're not mad, by the way. We just want to help."_

_"Speak for yourself," Morgana mumbles. "I'm furious! You didn't know what was out there! For all you knew, you could have ended up—"_

_"Dead," Akira finishes. "I know. That's why I tried to enter the Palace with Futaba alone since you were all busy at the time. Not that it did us much good. We tried to enter together, but the app wouldn't even open in Futaba's presence. That's when we found out that I'm the only one able to go in and out. The keywords were already in the Nav—it's like the ruler wanted me to enter. And yes, I was aware it could be a trap. But what else could I have done?"_

_None of them seem to know how to answer that, so Akira decides to use their silence to keep going. He takes a deep breath and takes a look at them. Ryuji catches his gaze for a moment and gives him a reassuring nod. How easily his friends seem to forgive him. Akira almost forgot what it's like to not be alone._

_He tells them about his meetings with Akechi, keeping some of the details to himself, and they all listen with various degrees of fear and sadness on their faces. When he's done, they exchange glances, none of them too eager to speak their minds."This isn't...possible, though," Sumire says eventually, like she's trying to explain something to a rather obtuse child. "We've seen him die."_

_"Mayhaps," Yusuke suggests. "He chose to return to our plane of existance as a ghost."_

_“Is he a poltergeist then?” Futaba makes a spooky sound, and Makoto who's been unusually quiet this whole time lets out a strangled noise. "Should we call the Ghostbusters?"_

_"Makes sense for Akechi to become a vengeful spirit," Morgana swishes his tail. "I mean, with the way he—"_

_Ryuji slams his fist on the table and the whole room goes quiet. Yusuke drops his bag of chips, Makoto stops shivering, and Morgana jumps off the window sill to sit on Haru's lap. "What the hell happened to you all? Did you already forget that he fucking saved you? We wouldn't be sitting here if it wasn't for Akechi!"_

_"Ryuji," Yusuke laces their fingers together. "Calm down."_

_"He's right though," Sumire whispers quietly. "When was the last time any of you visited senpai's grave? It's usually just me and Muhen-san..."_

_"We've all been acting awful," Ann stands up, angry tears falling from her eyes. "It's enough that the whole world acts like he never existed. He was one of us, wasn't he? And we just...tried to forget about him because it's easier."_

_"I'm sorry, I'm—" Futaba mumbles. "I just...I make stupid jokes when I get nervous, and I'm... Like I could ever forget! I still have nightmares about it, about the way he—"_

_“Please stop," Haru says softly. "This isn't helping. Akira is..."_

_Akira's back is turned to all of them. It all falls down like a house of cards—it starts with a muffled sob, a slight shake of his shoulders, until his whole body starts shivering from the unspoken grief. None of them dare to break the silence as they watch their fearless leader fall apart—openly wailing, noises less and less human, resembling a wounded animal—the years of tears he never found the courage to spill. During all these years since Akechi's death, The Phantom Thieves have never seen their leader cry._

_"Can you all leave for a moment?" Haru speaks up again. "There are some things I wish to say, and for Akira's sake, I'd rather you all waited outside. I'll call you when we're done."_

_The floor creaks under their feet, as they all obey her gentle order. Haru doesn't move to stand next to Akira, one hand rubbing up and down his back comfortingly. She doesn't say anything, knowing that there are simply no words that could still console him. Her quiet kindness, her patience, her immeasurable forgiveness—all of that made her capable of comforting him, the very person who grieves her father's murderer. Finally, when he calms down, she moves to stand in front of him._ _"I'm sorry you had to sit through all of this," she begins awkwardly. "I didn't know it was Akechi's place. Their bickering was a little...inconsiderate."_

_"No, it's the opposite," Akira says. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one to remember him. It's nice to know that you guys care. If anything, they should apologize to Futaba. She's been risking a lot, helping me all this time. It's just a coping mechanism."_

_"I'm still a little mad that you no longer trust us," Haru pokes his chest accusingly. "But I also know what it's like to lose someone. I know how tempting it is to give in to loneliness, how easy it is to believe that everyone around you tries to betray you, or...how they don't understand your sadness."_

_"It's not like that," Akira shakes his head. "I was just...ashamed."_

_Haru cocks her head to the side. "Ashamed?"_

_"I've been sneaking in," Akira admits. "Just...to see him. I've been doing this for the last few weeks, but the problem is... The time there flows differently. Few hours here, months there. It's like I'm given another chance. He always rejects me, you know? But I still do it. I still act the way I used to for his sake. I'm not sure how he'd react if he knew what I've become. I think he would just be disappointed."_

_"Why do you think he would be disappointed?"_

_"Because he didn't choose that life," Akira shakes his head. "He was just a kid, manipulated, used, abandoned—I knew what I was doing. I wanted to get rid of these guys. He exchanged his life for mine. And then...he valued me as his rival because we were different. He loved me because we were different. It's only fair, that he would—"_

_"I think you're both kids who had to grow up way too fast," Haru interjects quietly. "Don't think I don't know what you've been up to, and I certainly don't think it's the right path. But I don't think Akechi could ever be disappointed in you."_

_"You don't know him the way I do," Akira opposes weakly._

_"Akira," Haru whispers. "Akechi-kun is dead."_

_Akira lets out a nasty laugh. "Thanks for informing me."_

_"You misunderstand," Haru takes his calloused hands into her gentle ones. "No matter what you see in there, no matter how much you think it's real...he's dead. He doesn't want anything, he doesn't feel anything, he doesn't think anything...he's no longer bound by his grudge or hatred—he's finally at peace. Don't you think he deserves some after everything he's done? And if some part of him really is lingering, then I suppose the only thing you can do is put him to his rest. But please. Don't let it devour who you are."_

_"He's worth it," Akira says stubbornly. "Even a single second with him, even if he'll keep on rejecting me. I failed him, I need to...No, I will make it up to him."_

_"You were there for him," Haru whispers. "You made him feel loved. You've already done so much. You never had to...avenge him. Out of all people, Akechi-kun knows that revenge is a destructive force that consumes everything on its path. Do you truly think I don't understand? Do you think I never wanted to get my revenge? But when someone sacrifices their life for you, all you can do is...live. And that, over there? Akira...it's not living. It's just an imitation. It's the same as the fake world that Maruki once offered. You know what you have to do, I know you do."_  
  
_Akira flinches at the mention of Maruki. It shouldn't sting as much—every word aimed at the guilt gnawing at his heart like a vicious parasite. And at that moment, once again he recalls Goro's last words to him._

**Don't be stupid.**

**Live.**

* * *

"I suppose I've been selfish," Akira admits as Goro still analyzes his words. "I wanted to spend some time with him...you. I could easily spend months at your side and then go back to my reality as if nothing happened. So that's what I've been doing. I was watching you go through the same events, with or without my input. At first, I was just watching you from afar. But I couldn't stay away for long. So we would just...hang out—the way we always did. You didn't seem to remember that just before we—well, you didn't remember anything past the early days of January."

So it was only after that their relationship changed. The other Goro Akechi knew he was about to die, and he still decided to enter an incredibly stupid and irresponsible relationship with Akira. Well, he had to leave worrying about his missing memories for later. “So all this time, I’ve been repeating some events from my life,” Goro summarises like he’s talking about someone else. “I think we can safely assume that all of these are my worst memories, things that have been keeping me from moving on—hence, the loop."

"All this time you seem to be under an impression that time still passes," Akira adds. "You very much believe you're still living in Maruki's reality. Once the loop starts again, you forget about everything that happened."

"But it didn't happen this time," Goro points out. "So that would mean, the loop has...resolved? And yet, I'm still here. If we're really inside my Palace, then it likely just means we figured out a puzzle. Any ideas what could have done it?"

“At some point, I realized that you kept rejecting me," Akira says carefully, searching Goro's face for his reaction. "I decided to discuss it with the other Thieves. We, uh—we figured that maybe the way to get you out of it, was for you to accept my invitation, a gift, anything—and well, I suppose it worked.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t—” Goro feels the heat rise to his cheeks. “You mean...last night. No fucking way. Just because you _kissed_ me first?”

“It’s the first time we’ve done this since your...passing,” Akira says. “If that’s what you’re asking. Despite what you might think, I didn't exactly come here to use you against your will."

"You do realize," Goro grabs Akira by the collar in an attempt to make him look at him. "That everything here is happening against my will? That keeping me here on some fucking Metaverse life-support is the most insulting thing you could have done to me? I don't care if I'm the real Goro or not. But I promise you—he would never, _ever_ wish for this."

"Maybe you really are him," Akira mutters more to himself than Goro. Goro doesn't know if it's meant as praise or an insult. His fingers slide down Akira's neck, his thumb digging right in the dip of his throat. Even if clenching his hand around it seems tempting as ever, Goro decides to let go. He pretends not to see Akira's quickened breathing as he takes a step back. 

"How long have you spent in my Palace?" he asks sharply. "And by that I mean—how long was it for _you_?"

Akira shifts uncomfortably, his gaze stubbornly avoiding Goro's. "At this point, about a year."

"You stupid, sentimental—" Goro closes his eyes. "Something changed though, hasn't it? There's something you're not telling me. You fucked up and now you don't know how to fix it."

Goro won't pretend to understand anything about the person Akira's become during their time apart. But if there's anything he does know about him, is how desperate he gets when his loved ones are in danger. And desperation has ever been the most fertile soil for stupidity. "Your presence is affecting our reality," Akira admits eventually. "Remember the _haunted_ places I told you about? It's like that, except it's getting worse. Bad enough that the Velvet Room manifested again. Do you—"

"I do remember what that is," Goro nods. "Go on."

"Whatever this place is," Akira continues. "We believe it's powerful enough to burst through our reality. Lavenza warned that the current loop that started six days ago might be the final one. And that means—"

"That tomorrow the Metaverse will merge with _your_ reality," Goro concludes, recalling Akira's summary of their fight against Yaldabaoth. "And so far, you've done nothing to stop me."

"You don’t seem too upset about being dead,” Akira points out to dodge the question. “Or surprised, for that matter.”

Goro remembers the first time he started suspecting he might have not made it out alive from the engine room—the missing memories, the convenient way his mind seemed to be intact despite using The Call of Chaos. It's not like it was easy to accept it—but he wasn't scared either. If anything, he felt frustrated that someone decided to take his life into their hands. Goro’s always been great at pushing away information that might slow his progress. That's why he understands Akira loud and clear—he’s dead. What he doesn't get is why on Earth even the most hidden part of him would choose to linger—could Akira be the sole reason? "Do you think I'm a ghost?" he asks Akira suddenly.

"That depends," Akira crosses his arms. "Do you believe in them?"

"Of course not," Goro doesn't realize he's pacing until he finds himself in the kitchen. He takes one look around, before saying. "Let's say, I am a ghost. That for some reason, Persona users leave behind this...dent in reality that results in something resembling a Palace, leaving my Shadow behind. How can we stop me? We found the Palace. The infiltration was successful, we established who the ruler is, and we know his whereabouts. What do we do next?"

"We secure the route to the treasure," Akira says. "But Mona isn't allowed in here, so all we have is...you. Do you have any idea where your treasure might be? And more importantly, will the treasure even manifest without a calling card?"

"And how would you exactly send me one?" Goro snorts. "I don't think hell has an address. Unless you want to read it dramatically over my grave, but somehow I don't think I'll be the most responsive listener. Besides, you're missing the most important detail. You're not trying to steal my heart. You're trying to defeat the ruler and destroy the Palace."

"Goro."

"You had to know," Goro says coldly. "The moment you found out it was my Palace. You know what has to be done."

"You're asking me to _kill_ you."

"I'm asking you to pull the plug," Goro corrects him. "It should be easy enough as long as we—"

“Easy?" Akira laughs hysterically. "Is this a fucking joke? I had to watch you die _twice_. Then, when I thought I was done grieving you, you come back again as a _fucking_ ghost. Don’t tell me it’s been easy. You may be dead, but you don't know shit about what I had to go through. You don't know shit about the person I had to become to give you...give _us_ a semblance of peace.”

It's an impulse—whether it comes from his selfish need, or determination to solve the case, Goro crosses the distance between them, pulling his arms around Akira. It's the strangest of feelings—even if it's not his fault, he hates Akira for making him linger as long as he did. And yet, the heart that foolishly believes it's still alive beats hard against his chest, begging, no, _demanding_ to be close to him, tells him to enjoy it while it lasts. Is this why he chose to linger? Because he didn't get enough time to love him? 

"This Palace, it...it's different, right?" Akira mutters into his chest. "Surely, we can find a way to do it without making you suffer."

He will suffer—there's no doubt in his mind. That's why his mind has been trying to protect him, to keep him alive no matter the cost. Goro Akechi would never give up without a fight, and whatever happens at the end of it will be more painful than just dying. But for now, he has to play along—he needs Akira's cooperation, after all. "Fair enough," he says. "We're going to find the treasure. Like you said, this place isn't the same as the Palaces we know. And if my assumptions are correct, the treasure, wherever it is, has already manifested."

Akira blinks at him in surprise. "How can you be so sure?"

"The Palace didn't reset, did it?" Goro reminds him. "I think it's safe to assume that I'm out of the loop. There's nothing holding me here anymore, except for the treasure. But none of that matters if we can't find it in the first place."

"This might prove difficult," Akira says. "I discovered some time ago that while the Palace seems to cover the majority of Tokyo, I'm only allowed into places you _want_ me to enter. I knew the address of your house, but as long as you wanted me to stay away, I couldn't...get there. I would just loop back to the entrance."

Goro puts a hand to his chin pensively. It's difficult enough to accept that he even _has_ a treasure—nothing in his life seems valuable enough to become an objectification of his desires. And as far as desires were concerned, what could they even be? "If you ask me if I can sense it, then the answer is no. Either I simply don't have that ability, or most likely, the treasure is somewhere out of my reach. And if that's true, it must be in some place outside the loop. Perhaps, if we would be able to get closer, I could tell you more about it."

He stops when he notices Akira's expression. "Did I say something funny?" Goro says with a hint of irritation. 

"It's weird to discuss a heist with the Palace Ruler," Akira says with a small grin. "Especially when it's you. It's like we're back at the—"

"—the hideout," Goro finishes. "That's a very good point—we've never been to Leblanc, but...I don’t want to go there.”

“You _don't want_ to go there?" Akira repeats slowly.

Goro nods. "That’s exactly why we should go. Because everything in my body tells me not to. If there's some way to...send me back, it might be somewhere around that area. You should leave for now and come back here tomorrow—and make sure you come prepared for the worst.”

A dark shadow flashes through Akira's face at the implication. "Fine. I will be."

"Well, if we do have to fight," Goro says, almost playfully. "I'll be sure to make it a good one. You won't have your friends to help you out, and I won't have to hold back anymore. It sounds like a perfect send-off, don't you—"

Akira takes his face into his hands. For a moment, their eyes meet, exchanging words they should never say out loud. Goro nods in silent consent, and Akira closes the distance between them, capturing Goro's lips in one last needy kiss. It's funny, Goro thinks, how even when he's technically dead, his lungs still scream for the offering of air, he still has to pull away from Akira to take in a breath he doesn't need, and he still feels like not kissing Akira could actually kill him.

He doesn't know how to handle loving him. It's even harder than accepting death. Perhaps not having that much time together would prove to be a blessing. "One last thing before you go," he hears himself saying when they part. "Humor me this one last time. The world is ending, you're completely alone, stuck with an unknown enemy you might not be able to defeat on your own. How are you so calm about all of this?"

Akira looks at him with a strange kind of determination that Goro's never seen before. He leaves one last kiss on Goro's forehead, before answering: “Because some naïve part of me still believes that I'm going to save you.”

* * *

Infiltration attempts remaining: 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- sorry about the delay but i decided to make the chapter twice its usual length, and ended up editing a lot of dialogues to offer some of akira's perspective. hope that helps!  
> \- the brief ryukita moment wasn't something i planned ahead, but hey, i love my boys  
> \- i feel like this chapter might be a bit boring, but i really wanted to finish the plot reveal, so i can focus on the ending  
> \- if you're wondering about goro's death, i won't go into detail, but you will find out how he died in the last chapter  
> \- i'm not sure if i'll be able to finish the chapter for tomorrow since it still requires a lot of editing, but you should get it on monday the latest! stay tuned!
> 
> Edit:  
> \- this is where i've realized that this chapter is as long as the last five put together. i am so, so, sorry


	7. day seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hearts are stubborn little things._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with the words "You came to see my father", there's a rather violent description that you might want to skip if you're sensitive, so just to be safe, don't read that paragraph.

_"This should be fine," Akira mutters, accepting the powerful Persona in his own heart. They've all changed since the last time he was here when he was still a teenager—the register is filled with the old masks he used to wear, yet some refuse to come to his aid. Akira doesn't let the anxiety seep into his heart, even if it's not a battle he expects to win easily, and the new power he's honed over the years still sits uncomfortably under his skin. He's changed, hasn't he? It only makes sense that the inside of his heart wouldn't remain the same._

_"The new bond you forged," Igor says with a hint of amusement, without lifting his head. "Made you very powerful, my dear guest. I can't wait to see it unravel."_

_The Velvet Room in itself looks more or less the same, same as its residents. Lavenza doesn't say much, caught up in her own thoughts. She still commits to her duties, but Akira cannot help but think that sometimes she watches him with the most melancholic expression on her angelic face. It's brief, but Akira easily notices that she flinches at the sound of her master's voice._

_"Then I'll be on my way," Akira says, hoping he sounds more confident than he actually is. Only then, Igor lifts his gaze to watch him like a hawk._

_"Make sure you bring the world to its natural order," Igor says, almost cheerfully, but Akira easily recognizes the threat behind his words. He clenches his fists at the sides before letting go._

_"You can count on me," is all he says in reply. Igor nods, the silent understanding shining in his eyes before he looks away, looking as busy as if he never spoke in the first place._

_The heavy book Lavenza always carries in her arms falls to the floor with a small thud. Akira instinctively leans forward to pick it up but he's stopped by a small, gentle hand. "Trickster," Lavenza grabs him by the coat, lowering her voice. "We told you everything you need to know to face the dangerous foe ahead. However, there are some things even we cannot predict. Once again, the fate of the world lies in your hands. As much as I do not doubt that you will come victorious, the way you always do...I cannot help but ask myself an important question. Could you possibly indulge me with an answer?"_

_Akira simply waits for her to continue. Lavenza casts one anxious look towards her master, who appears to be too preoccupied with a mysterious stack of documents in front of him. "That boy...I've already shared my suspicions with you the last time you were here, and I assume you've had some time to think it through. So let me ask you this—knowing what you know about the nature of Goro Akechi's existence in this world, are you still determined to save him?"_

_Determined. Is that what he is? He had to be—nothing but sheer determination kept him alive up until that point. He's long forgotten what it's like to live without a clear purpose. For a moment, he can feel the weight of Goro's limp body in his hands, the way he did that faithful day. "Of course I am," he replies quickly, as if hoping to remove the sudden lump in his throat. "With this power...This time, I will save him, Lavenza."_

_Lavenza's adorable face lightens up with a smile, the one he missed the most—the smile that says how proud she is of him, despite everything he's become. "Very well," she says, letting go of him. "We will be...I'll be cheering you on, Trickster. Save what needs to be saved. Defeat what needs to be defeated. And...protect your heart as well. It's easy to steal away something so fragile."_

_Before Akira can begin to ponder the meaning of her words, she bids him farewell and he finds himself back in his own reality, mind heavy with the weight of the questions still unanswered._

* * *

( _Checkmate. Even if it's not as fun as winning against you._

_Why the fuck would you do that? We had time! We could have still defeated him!_

_No, we really couldn't. You knew I was dead anyway._

...

_I can't see, but I can still hear you, you know. So please, spare me your tears._

_You...don't speak. We can still save you. I can still—_

_This is your fault for playing the stupid hero. It's contagious._

_Shut up. Fuck, shut up. You're losing so much blood._

_Put me down. I'm not a burden you should be carrying._

_We can make it. I know we can.)_

**In the darkest night, his tears fall upward.**

**My hands move downward.**

**We catch each other's breaths,**

**through the cold space between us.**

**—through his nimble fingers**

**i began slipping—**

* * *

The voice in his head falters for a brief moment, then grows silent. Goro takes a deep breath. As much as it's become a nuisance, it makes him feel less alone.

The snow that falls from the sky isn't cold, Goro notes. It hardly feels like anything at all. He's been noticing a lot of stuff like that lately. It's like being in a poorly rendered virtual dream, where all details disappear upon closer inspections. Since there isn't much he can do, so far he's done nothing but travel around Tokyo, for the first time noticing just how empty it is. All his life, he never really needed other people, he barely even noticed them. They were nothing but ants he liked to observe when he was a kid—amusing for a time, but equally ready to be squashed under his heel the moment they stopped being entertaining. And yet, his foolishly human heart cannot help but clench when looking at the desolate cityscape. 

It's been two weeks since he's seen Akira, but he's hardly worried. Time flows differently, isn't that what he said?

When Akira finally finds him some days later, Goro's sitting on a bench in Odaiba. Maruki's Palace blinks in and out of existence and Goro finds himself unable to walk away. When he hears a familiar set of footsteps, he doesn't turn around, letting himself enjoy the spectacle for one more moment. Akira doesn't seem all that eager to talk either. There's something mesmerizing about it really—a threatening tower filled with strange lights, contrasting with Tokyo's night sky—light pollution should make it impossible to see the stars, and yet here they are, blinking friendly from above.

Goro's never been particularly keen on stargazing, and he never really had the opportunity to do so for an extended period of time. The stars seem just as useless as the empty Palace in front of them. "You'd think," Goro begins to break the silence. "That my mind has better things to do than keep this illusion alive. I know the truth now, don't I? All of it might as well disappear."

"Hearts are stubborn little things," Akira replies simply. He doesn't sit down, choosing to stand directly behind Goro. Even with the distance between them, Goro feels the warmth of being alive emanating from Akira's body.

The same couple Goro wanted to shoot on the first day of the loop passes by, equally oblivious of their surroundings. "I've never noticed people here are faceless," Goro says with a hint of disgust. "I suppose it's like living in a dream. My mind simply chose not to focus on the things that don't matter." 

Akira's hand on Goro's shoulder shouldn't feel as heavy as it does. "I'm sorry you had to wait," he murmurs. "It's been less than a day for me, but I imagine—"

The simple touch is almost enough to make him falter. His fingers itch to reach out to Akira's body, to hang on to him like an anchor. Some philosophers claim that minds and bodies are separate entities, and Goro's never felt it more deeply. He feels ready to let go, just as he did the moment he realized he might not leave Maruki's reality alive.

And yet, his oldest, most cruel of traitors, the useless sack of bones and blood that's already failed him so many times before, cannot help but tremble and cower in fear, while his mind remains completely calm. At the very least, when he speaks, his voice remains stable. "Let's just go, Joker," Goro sighs, the nickname pleasantly familiar on his tongue. "I'm tired of waiting."

When Goro turns around to finally face him, he's surprised to discover that Akira's still wearing his casual clothes. And yet, something about him looks different. He's older and taller than Goro remembers him being, that's for sure. But it's not just that—his lips are tight, shaped into a thin line, jaw more refined, and his eyes—yes, these are the eyes Goro recognizes from his own reflection in the mirror. Now that his mind chose to stop protecting him from the truth, Goro allows himself to stare—he's dead, isn't he? He can handle one last embarrassment.

At that moment, Akira catches his gaze in a challenge, but whatever he hopes to find in Goro's eyes, clearly isn't there. "Have you figured out how to get there?" he asks, somehow disappointed.

"I will not turn into a bus if that is what you're suggesting," Goro can't help but tease, despite the finality of it all. The corner of Akira's mouth twists into a wry smile. "Does the mighty leader of the Phantom Thieves really need me as their guide for this? We're in Tokyo, aren't we? We're going to take the train."

As he stands up, Akira catches Goro's wrist. For a time that shouldn't be longer than a few heartbeats, nothing happens, and Goro lifts his eyebrows to express his growing impatience. Finally, Akira pulls out a pair of gloves from his coat's pocket, and carefully, if not a little awkwardly, slides them down Goro's hands. They're matching Akira's own, he notices. Akira lets their fingers intertwine for a moment before letting them go.

"We can go now," Akira announces then and heads towards the station without looking back at Goro's dumbfounded expression. 

* * *

_—What would you do if you were given a second chance?_

_—A second chance? To do what?_

_—Anything you want._

_—Then, I would do just that. Anything._

_—Would you save your mother?_

_—Yes, of course, I would._

_—Would you kill your father?_

_—Over and over again._

_—Would you kill your lover?_

_—Only if he gets in my way._

_—Would you try to be happy?_

_—Don't make me laugh._

_Happiness is not something I could ever desire._

* * *

Out of all the strange things Goro's seen so far, completely deserted trains are perhaps the weirdest. Akira looks slightly uncomfortable as well, but he doesn't say a word. They sit down next to each other, their knees bumping awkwardly against one another. The ride takes about as long as it would in the real world. The announcements echo through the empty trains, aimed at no one in particular—a spectacle for an absent audience. The closer they get to their destination, the more _aware_ Goro becomes of Akira's presence. Something about it makes Goro's hair stand up on the back of his neck in stubborn rebellion—perhaps, he will have to fight Joker after all. By the time they get to Yongen-Jaya, Goro realizes he can clearly hear Akira's quickened heartbeat along with every intake of his breath, each detail of his existence clearly mapped out in his mind's eye. He decides not to disclose that information. 

Despite the nagging feeling at the back of his head, he feels surprisingly calm upon seeing Leblanc. Still, just as they're about to enter the alley, something tells him to speak up. "Before we do this, may I ask you something?"

The flash of fear in Akira's eyes is brief, and Goro pretends not to see it. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

"It's not that," Goro lets out a sigh. "I suppose since we got so far I can't help but wonder—are you really this stupid?"

The question clearly takes Akira by surprise, enough for him to let out a warm chuckle, that Goro tells himself he didn't miss. "Excuse me? Is that your idea of a pep talk, _leader_?"

"For all we know, I'm the ruler of this...Palace," Goro continues, ignoring Akira's snarky comment. "And yet here you are, charging in blindly like a fool when for all you know, I could be setting you up for a trap. Do you honestly trust me so much? The same person who's already betrayed you once? I don't get you. I can see how much you've changed, and yet you're the same irrational, stubborn—"

Akira silences him with a single kiss. He's slightly taller, so Goro actually needs to stand on his tiptoes to keep up, which under other circumstances would likely piss him off. "You're trusting me enough to kill you," Akira whispers into the space between their lips. "I'm trusting you not to kill me. We're just stupid like that."

Goro can't come up with a retort witty enough to voice it out loud, so instead, he pulls Akira toward Leblanc with no intention to continue their conversation. He still remembers times when he was the one responsible for making Akira feel dumbfounded, and not the other way around. Akira is the older one now, he notes not without spite. Not that it will matter soon. "Let's just get this over with."

The door to Leblanc looks underwhelmingly normal. He lets Akira go first, watching nervously as his hand twists the doorknob. Nothing happens. "It's closed," Akira says, pulling at the door once again to make sure it's not stuck. "And it doesn't look like we can insert a key. So what now?"

As he says that, a thought arrives in Goro's head as if someone turned on the light in a dark empty room. "That's because there's a barrier here," Goro slides his hand against the glass, sighing when he feels Akira's gaze on him. "Don't ask. I just know."

Akira moves to the side, letting Goro inspect the door instead. "Is it a puzzle?" 

"I don't believe it's anything as elaborate as that, no," Goro ponders, resting his chin on his fist. "Pertaining to our previous discussion, the loop seems to have been the only obstacle. Assuming this _Palace_ has a defense mechanism in the first place. Assuming I'm the Ruler, I'm confident enough in my abilities to know I can defeat you in combat without the need for such antics."

Akira makes a face but does his best not to look offended, as he leans over Goro's shoulder to look through the glass of the door. "Why the barrier then? And...shouldn't we be able to see the inside of the café? It's pitch black in there."

"You mentioned that through all loops I kept rejecting your invitations," Goro recalls. "So it's likely that a part of me still doesn't want you here."

"Do you need to officially accept my offer, then?" Akira suggests with little confidence.

"There's no need for such theatrics," Goro rolls his eyes. He twists the doorknob and the door swings open before...vanishing in the darkness. "I suppose I'm the key. My consent is only useful for you if you were to charge in there alone. But I suppose we don't have to worry about that part."

Akira casts an apprehensive gaze towards the gaping black hole where the door used to be. "Just when I was about to say it's a little underwhelming."

"Before we enter," Goro says slowly, hoping his own anxiety doesn't show. "I want you to promise to stay close to me at all times. You may consider it an order."

"I can handle myself," Akira opposes. "What if we have to—"

"We don't have time for idle musings," Goro crosses his arms. "Whatever we find there, it won't hurt me. You, on the other hand, are an intruder. I won't have you becoming a liability because of your fragile ego. Can you do that for me, Joker?"

Goro thinks Akira should be at least _a little_ offended. Instead, Akira almost smiles. "Fine," he says, with surprising fondness. "I'll stay close."

"It's a deal then," Goro nods, ignoring the weight in his chest as he steps into the darkness.

* * *

They find themselves in a pitch-black corridor. It's wide enough for them to walk side by side, but narrow enough so that they're constantly bumping into each other. The corridor seems endless, and yet Goro has a strange feeling that with each step they're getting closer towards their goal. At some point, Akira grabs his hand, and Goro lets him, telling himself it's just in case they get separated—it's a funny thing to focus on when marching towards his death, but it makes him feel more human. After what must be an hour's worth of walk, Akira gets tired of silence. "Can you tell me something about yourself?"

"You already know plenty," Goro points out coldly. "More than I've ever wished to share with you."

"I thought you were done rejecting me," Akira reminds him painfully. It does seem like a good point, however. What if Akira is right and there are more puzzles? Wouldn't sharing something with Akira be beneficial for their common purpose? Besides, Goro's dead, and soon, he will completely cease to exist. It's not like his memories are all that valuable. He's silent for a moment before finding a suitable memory.

"My mother grew up near a Shinto shrine," Goro begins eventually. "After I was born and my grandfather cast her out, she found solace in one of the shrines near Tokyo. When I was a child, she would often tell me stories from mythology—her favorite was the tale of Izanami and Izanagi. Maybe she found it romantic, obviously, I didn't think to ask at the time."

"Isn't that a little grim?" Akira raises his eyebrows. "Doesn't sound like a nice bedtime story."

"I didn't really mind," Goro shrugs. "Do you recall the tale? Izanami died when giving birth to her son, Kagu-Tsuchi, who burnt her from the inside. Tragic, isn't it? A child, who has no choice but to be brought into this world, ends up killing his mother, and becoming the harbinger of death itself."

Akira stops at that. "What are you saying?"

"It's a long tunnel, don't you think?" Goro says, his lips tight. "Why, one could easily believe it's the entrance to the Underworld. And we are dealing with the dead here." 

Akira doesn't say anything in return. After a while, it gets light enough for them to be able to make out their surroundings, and that's when Goro notices that Akira's outfit changed. "We must be getting closer," he says, eyeing the familiar black coat. "Good, though. I'm glad you're still able to fight."

"I wonder what changed," Akira takes a moment to make sure his weapons are still there. "Do you feel threatened by me?" 

"No," Goro shakes his head. "But _something_ is."

Akira doesn't ask about Goro's definition of _something,_ but his hand still clutches at Goro's sleeve. "Wait. Can you hear it?" Akira says. "This strange sound...it's almost like—"

Goro has to really focus on it, the same way he had to focus to notice the missing elements about the reality he created. He can hear it, through the sounds of Akira's body, a drumming sound, that feels strangely familiar. And that's when Goro realizes.

It's the sound of a human heart. _His_ heart.

The tunnel suddenly ends. Goro expects to find a cave at the end of it, but instead, they find themselves in a large garden. The sky above is overwhelmingly blue, with flowers blooming in every corner. They seem to be completely alone—there are no animals to be found, no birds to be heard. It would all be eerily quiet if it wasn't for the strange sound. That's when they see it—right in the middle of the garden stands a large tree with a human, beating heart growing from the middle.

"I may be a Phantom Thief," Akira whispers as if he's too afraid of breaking the silence. "But I've never expected to have to steal an _actual_ heart."

"There's another barrier here as well," Goro mutters, stopping Akira when he takes a step forward. "We can't touch the heart. Something's protecting it. Protecting...me."

"Protecting you?"

"Well, it's only natural to assume that it's my own heart, is it not?" Goro places a hand on his chest. "It matches my heartbeat, too."

"Who could possibly—"

The footsteps behind them are light. Goro's sure Akira can't possibly hear them. He motions for him not to move, and Akira nods, trusting him blindly even though his apparent confusion.

"Hello, mother," Goro says stiffly to the newcomer. "I'm home."

She gives him a big smile, one he's never seen on her when she was still alive—it's a smile reserved for people who led happy lives. "Welcome back, Goro."

Her eyes are a wonderful shade of yellow. 

* * *

**the word of a mother**

**is as cruel**

**as it is final**

**a mother's love**

**selfless and unavoidable**

* * *

Goro's mother doesn't make a single move. She's wearing the same clothes she did when he saw her for the last time, but even then, she looks different—happy and well-rested, a state she could only find herself in after death. Looking at her, he cannot help but think they're complete opposites. She's warm, where Goro is cold. She's fulfilled, where Goro is hollow. She's kind, where Goro is rotten.

"You knew, didn't you?" Akira whispers, obvious pain of betrayal present on his face. "You knew all along." 

"I had my suspicions," Goro replies quietly, barely looking at him. "Oh, don't give me that face. Are you saying you've been entirely honest with me?"

"Aren't you happy that I brought him to you?" the woman's face clearly falls upon hearing their exchanges. "I thought you'd be happy to see him. Otherwise, I wouldn't let him into our Garden."

_Something he should know._

_Something he's always known._

"Our Garden," Goro repeats. "Of course it is. It's not my Palace, it's never been a Palace. This place belongs to both of us. We're the ones keeping it alive."

He turns to face Akira. "And that's something _you_ knew, too? Is that what you wouldn't tell me?"

"Not about your mother," Akira shakes his head. "I really did think it was your Palace. Then, something Lavenza told me got me thinking. She said that...she said that your presence isn't all that different from Morgana's. And that means...you were born in the Metaverse. You're not Goro, you're not his ghost, you're...you're a part of this world. And I suppose it now makes sense. Your mother created you."

"She's not my mother," Goro snorts. "My mother is dead."

The fire sword appears in Goro's hand, even if his Persona remains in deep slumber—then again if everything Joker said is true, he doesn't even have one anymore, does he? He's just a newborn. "You long for your companion?" the woman asks, reading his mind. "I can't give it back. It was so...unsightly. Then again I suppose, I can give you something more fitting."

She snaps her fingers and Goro's outfit turns white. "Robin Hood," she says with delight. "Now, that's fitting for my little hero."

"It doesn't matter," Goro clutches the sword that now turned into his old lightsaber. "I'd defeat you with my bare fists if I had to. Let's go, Joker."

Joker is quick to summon his Persona—it's not something that Goro's ever seen, the sheer power of it making him stop for a moment. He can't make out what it is, its terrifying speed making it near impossible to see. To his relief, Robin Hood really does answer his call. Even after all this time, Joker and Crow still work well together—they're in perfect sync, their joined attacks delivering terrifying blows to their foe. And yet, when the dust settles, Goro's mother appears to be completely unharmed, if anything she looks slightly troubled. "Are you trying to rebel?" she asks softly. "There's no reason for you to do so. You know I could never hurt you."

"You're protecting each other," Akira concludes. "You're protecting her, and she's protecting you."

"I'm not doing it on purpose," Goro says through clenched teeth. "Maybe if we strike together once again—"

 _No_ , something tells him. This isn't right. They can never defeat her in combat. They need a _plan_. All Goro needs is enough time to come up with one. "Mother knows best, isn't that right?" he says bitterly. "Come on, indulge us with one fight. We're here to kill you, after all."

"I don't see you as a danger to me," she smiles. "You're my children. My beautiful, beautiful children."

With that, Akira and Goro fall to the ground. When he comes to, the first thing he notices is that his hands are much smaller. No, his entire _body_ is much smaller. "That's cheating," he points out, raising himself to sit on his knees. He notes that Akira is in the same state, not older than eight years old. They exchange brief glances—Goro raises his eyebrows, and Akira nods in a silent agreement.

"I don't know who you are," Goro speaks up. "But you have some audacity to use my mother's face to get under my skin."

She looks hurt by his words, and it almost makes him feel guilty. "I _am_ your mother, Goro."

"Prove it."

Goro allows her to get closer and lift him off the ground, even if his entire being tells him to fight. She places him on her knees, gently and lovingly, like he's her precious treasure. "When you were eight years old, you suddenly stopped speaking," she tells him then. "I had to stop sending you to school, and got into a lot of trouble, but I knew you needed this time to grow. You would read books, the kind a child your age shouldn't be able to read. Still, stubbornly you used the dictionary our neighbor gave you, and you'd spend your days deciphering the most difficult kanji. When you spoke again, you used all the words you so carefully researched, you put all that knowledge into practical use. I asked you then why you'd go into so much trouble. And you said—"

"—that only by staying ahead of everyone, no one would ever look down on me," Goro finishes. "That I would use my looks, my eloquence, to make sure none of us ever has to suffer again. That I would never use words that make me look weak."

"And did you suffer, Goro?"

"I did," Goro replies. "But so did you. And you're going to suffer again."

The attack of Akira's Persona is weak in his state, but it's enough to surprise her. She lets go of Goro, and perhaps the shock of being hurt, is enough to break whatever power she used, and they find themselves back in their regular shape. "We don't have much time," Akira mutters. "It should paralyze her for a minute, maybe less. Any ideas?"

"Whatever this thing is, she believes she's my mother," Goro says. "It's possible that she's a Shadow, who came across my scattered presence in the Metaverse. It's hardly a natural death, isn't that right? Perhaps, a part of me really was stuck here. She used it to revive me, and then, changed her own appearance to look like my mother. That's why I think she genuinely loves me since she believes I'm her child. She knows her through my memories. So all we need to do is continue...to play the part."

"Are you going to be okay?" Akira asks quietly. "In a way, she is...your mother."

Goro decides not to answer. "She's waking up. Stay back and let me handle it."

Akira does as he's told, stepping away to hide between the trees. The woman opens her eyes, the innocent confusion still present on her features. "Did I fall asleep?" she asks. "Are you okay, Goro? What happened?"

"Mom," Goro leans to get closer to her. "Can you...hold me? I missed you so much."

"Yes," she says furrowing her eyebrows as if trying to remember something. "Always, Goro."

She wraps her arms around him, and for a moment, he lets himself breathe her in—he can smell the faint smell of cigarettes on her sweater, the lavender scent of her shampoo. She really is the perfect copy. Just like the child she recreated. "Can I entertain you with a story of my own?" he asks quietly. "Even if it's sad?"

"You can tell me anything," she promises easily.

"Do you remember what you told me?" Goro mutters then into her ear. "About the time when you first found out you were pregnant?"

"You came to see my father," Goro continues without waiting for her approval. "You wanted to tell him about the pregnancy, but you walked in on him fucking another woman. You were furious, and even though you knew you couldn't win, you attacked him. He hit you and you fell on the ground, and then he kicked your stomach—you were scared that if he continued beating you, you'd lose me—honestly, it was a miracle it didn't cause a miscarriage. That other woman stood there watching you, but she was too scared to do anything to help you. So you started begging for your life, and maybe because he was drunk, maybe because he had a witness, he graciously let you go. For a moment, as you were still lying there, bleeding and wounded like an animal, you thought you could kill him. That's when you told me that I should never, ever become a man like my father."

"You were drunk when you told me about it," he continues. "I was six years old. I was six and I already knew I was going to do what you couldn't—I would kill him for you. I'd bring his head on a silver platter for your viewing pleasure. Of course, you left before I could keep my promise. In the end, I never did kill him. But do you want to know the best part?"

His body hurts when he pulls away to loom over her. She looks up to him with her wide eyes, tears streaming down her face. "Stop. Don't say it."

"I am my father," Goro says mercilessly. He can feel the spirit of rebellion wrap himself around his body, like a tight vice. "I am Shido."

"No!" she screeches, shaking hands pulling at her hair. "You're beautiful, you're good, you're immortal! I _made_ you immortal!"

"I've killed," he continues as his gun, the _real_ one, materializes in his hand. "I've manipulated. I did my best to defeat my father in his own game, and failed anyway. I'm not the hero you've wanted me to become. I'm a monster he carefully trained. I'm a monster you _revived_."

He can hear Akira's voice calling his name when he loads the gun, but rather than shooting it, he puts it in his mother's hands, grasping them into a gentle hold. "It's loaded," he explains. "I bet you've never shot a gun before, but I guarantee you won't miss from this proximity. You can put down the monster he created. You can't kill Shido, but you can put down his dog. It's your responsibility—you brought me back, after all."

He puts his hand on hers, feeling it shake around the cold metal. "I often wondered who first put that gun in my hands. Was it that time I stole the toy gun in primary school? Was it your fault for leaving me alone, alone in that cold interrogation room with the stupid fucking cop who didn't even care enough not to leave his gun unguarded? Was it Shido who trained me into his deadly assassin?"

"Goro," it's Akira's voice this time. "Stop."

"I don't think anyone made me a killer," Goro says eventually. "I did what had to be done. It doesn't matter who put the gun in my hands. All that matters is that I pulled the trigger—and I'd do it again. Now it's your turn. Come on, you've seen the tree. You probably won't kill me by simply shooting me—you can't shoot through the heart that isn't even there. All you need to do is get rid of the empty doll."

The gun drops on the grass. "I can't," she whispers. "I would never forgive myself. Not after...not after leaving you all alone. I love you."

"It's funny," Goro says. "You're here because you can't forgive yourself. I'm here because I can't be forgiven." 

Goro flexes his hand, the claws of his gloves cutting through the air. "I had to accept that I am my father. But there's a lot of you in me too—I wanted to be loved, I wanted to be wanted. But that's your fault—after all, you left me all alone. You didn't love me. No one ever wanted me around. If you hate me for what I've become, you should have stayed with me. Alive. I have no desire to reunite with you in death. And do you know why?"

He leans in towering over her for the first time, all his memories including looking up to her, helpless and scared, begging for her not to leave. "Your son is dead and I'm not him. You couldn't stand losing me? How laughable. So you created me once more, from ash and memories. I was born, once again against my will."

"Whatever you are, I pity you," he tells her. "And if a part of you is my mother...I forgive you for holding my heart captive. How could I not? We're the same, after all."

"I remember now," she speaks up then. "You're right. We _are_ the same."

The voice comes back then, loud and determined, more welcoming than his previous Personas have ever been.

**I am thou.**

**Thou art I.**

**Among the pieces of my heart,**

**you shall find peace.**

Accepting Loki's power was painful—it felt like having his insides ripped open, and then put back together in a mess of blood and tissue. It felt like having every bone in his body rearranged, built anew. It's different now—he thinks if anything, it might be less of an awakening, much closer to what Joker's experiencing when accepting a new mask. As his mother slowly dissipates, the warmth that Goro was missing all this time fills his body in a flash of bright light. Akira says his name, but Goro doesn't react, not until he feels his hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Disappointed we didn't get to duel this one last time," Goro says dismissively, flexing his wrist. "But it appears I'm no longer able to summon my Persona. Truly, a shame."

Akira lifts something off the ground, putting it inside his pocket. Goro pretends not to see. He doesn't care what the treasure was, as long as it's gone. "What even...was she?"

"Who knows?" Goro looks at the now empty tree. "An anomaly created by my death? A vengeful spirit created by the consciousness of every mother who lost their child? A weak Shadow who used the remains of Maruki's reality?"

"This place...whatever it is, it's not collapsing," Akira notices. "But your heart is...gone. Does that still mean we won?"

"Now that my heart is free, I'm the only thing keeping this place alive," Goro says. "If I'm correct, all I need to do is...let go."

Akira's expression sends a sharp pain through the place where his heart was once beating. "I may not be the real Akechi, but wherever he is, I know he found some closure. I know I did. Maybe a part of him lives in me, after all. I wouldn't be able to summon his Persona otherwise."

"Speaking of which," he adds suddenly. "May I see? The Persona you summoned."

Akira hesitates before whispering its name. Goro laughs then. "Hopeless fool till the end."

When Akira still doesn't speak, Goro takes a step closer, to wrap his arms around him. "You won," he murmurs. "I know it's not the outcome you were hoping for but you did it again—you saved the world, even if you couldn't save your lover. But, I suppose...a part of me believed it too. I believed you were going to save me. So...thank you. Thank you for trying."

"I don't want you to die thinking you didn't matter," Akira says then, eyes filling with determination. "It doesn't matter if you're the real Goro, his clone, or whatever other definition you chose to believe. I do...love you. I'm always going to love you. I spent all this time with you, and never doubted it for a second."

For the first time in ages, Goro genuinely smiles. "Thank you for setting me free, my sweet fool."

His lips brush gently against Akira. "Find my heart again," he whispers then. "If you can."

Goro was wrong in the end. Whatever happens later, he doesn't suffer. As his last conscious thought, he realizes, that the most painful thing was living. Dying, even if you're unlucky, doesn't take as long. Living, however? It hurts until the end. Still, standing alone in the garden filled with light, he can't help but think, that he'd do it all over again. 

He kept his promise to Akira too. After all, ceasing to exist doesn't feel like anything at all.

* * *

Target eliminated.

Infiltration attempts remaining: 0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- in the end, i wasn't able to complete it within seven days. still, thank you for staying with me, thank you for reading, and thank you for your support. i wouldn't be able to finish the story otherwise. even if i don't reply your comment, please know that they make me the happiest person on earth  
> \- since i found that goro's sword is named hinokagutsuchi, i was itching to implement the reference into the story, hope it didn't come off as random!  
> \- i'm sorry if the story isn't the most comprehensible. i did my best to come up with my own idea for goro's not-palace, but i feel like i'm still not the best at world-building  
> \- i decided not to include it in the fic, since i think it's pretty clear, but in case you're wondering, goro died in maruki's palace, protecting akira. i'm sorry if it's a little underwhelming, but that's honestly all that happened  
> \- finally, i deliberately didn't mention it because you're free to imagine whatever you want, but through developing a confidant with goro's metaverse clone, akira fused a persona of loki and arsene combined. akira discovered he was able to summon both loki and robin hood after goro's death 
> 
> thank you for reading! and...stay tuned for the epilogue tomorrow. it's already written and i could have posted it today, but i feel like it should be read separately, since it ruined the flow of the story. see you guys then!


	8. epilogue: day ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Promise me. Promise me as much._

_"Cold night, isn't it, boys?"_

_They say hello to Muhen, not at all eager to speak to each other instead._

_Goro never asks Akira why he keeps inviting him to the jazz club. In turn, Akira never asks why Goro accepts every time. It's a good relationship to have, almost symbiotic in its self-indulgence._

_The singer sings the same song over and over like a broken record. Akira looks at her with a hint of worry on his face, but whatever he's thinking of, he decides not to share it. "How are you getting along with the group?" he asks instead, like he's a teacher who just introduced the new student to the class full of pre-schoolers. "I saw you zoning out yesterday. Is something the matter?"_

_Goro can't help but snort—everything is, really. Truthfully, Goro preferred when it was just the two of them. But if anything, he begrudgingly appreciates the efficiency in the Palace exploration. "I preferred your friends without the pity glare," Goro takes a sip of his drink to stop himself from saying too much. "Should I shoot someone in front of them this time to remind them who I am?"_

_"You could," Akira plays with his straw, watching him with the infuriating calmness. "But you don't really enjoy killing, do you?"_

_"No," Goro says in a strange fit of honesty. "But I don't feel remorse either if that's what you're hoping to hear. It's probably what your friends are telling themselves to justify my actions, is not? It's surprisingly easy to make someone believe even murder can be forgiven."_

_"You sacrificed yourself for us," Akira says slowly. "It might be hard for them to forget. I don't think they've forgiven you."_

_"Sacrifice?" Goro lets out a humorless laugh. "I wanted to take out that pathetic doll that carried my face. It hardly had anything to do with you. Besides, at that point, I knew I couldn't defeat Shido alone. And I wasn't about to let him get away with everything he's done. And who's better to carry the torch than a person who holds a grudge against him as well? I wouldn't let just anyone do it."_

_"I'm honored."_

_Akira pauses at the same time the music stops. "Is that all this is?" he asks once the same song resumes. "Is that really how you feel?"_

_It's pathetic how much Goro wants him. How desperate he is for the one person who shows him the tiniest bit of actual interest. Akira already knows him, and for some reason, he doesn't cast him aside. Then again, is there anything left for him other than wanting? For once, Goro can be as honest as he pleases. "If it was just your friends," he says then. "I'd probably watch them die. I don't care about saving anyone in particular."_

_'Nor do I care to be saved', he adds in his head. "Once again, you prove to be an outstanding exception," he clarifies bitterly upon seeing Akira's puzzled expression. "I couldn't let you die in there, **hero**."_

_Akira rests both his elbow on the table with a playful grin. "That sounds_ _oddly_ _like a confession."_

_Goro wants to make him regret saying it._

_Goro leans in across the table, capturing Akira's lips in a bruising kiss. He doesn't let go until he feels Akira's blood on his tongue, thrilling and exciting, as one of the few things in this annoyingly innocent world. "Fuck, Goro," Akira says, pulling away quickly. "We're in public."_

_"We're in Maruki's reality," Goro stares at the people around them in disgust. "I could fuck you on this table right here and no one would bat an eye. Unless your hero codex states that you're not allowed to have fun until the job is done."_

_Akira doesn't answer. Tick tock, there goes his chance. Goro's never been a patient man. "Speaking of which," he says, looking at his watch. "I should get going. Wouldn't want your feline babysitter to get worried."_

_He buttons up his coat, his hands slow and deliberate as he plays with each button. Akira just watches him dumbly, both of them waiting for something neither can put a name to. It's only when Goro's already out the door that Akira stops him, his cheeks quickly growing red in the cold. Goro loves that about him—his cheeks were just as red in the engine room, for a different reason entirely. It's exciting to see how easily the mighty Joker can bruise. His eyes cannot help but flicker to Akira's lips, swollen and bitten from Goro's kiss. He loves him so much he would happily tear him apart._

_Akira opens his pretty mouth, then closes it just as fast. As he waits, Goro imagines all the things he might possibly hear._

_~~I know the real you.~~ _

_~~I love you.~~ _

_~~Please, don't do this.~~ _

_~~You're better than this.~~ _

_~~Stop pushing me away.~~ _

_~~Can you tell me what's wrong?~~ _

_Instead, Akira says, one word—"Stay."_

_"Stay where?" Goro asks, slightly stumped. "Here? In this reality?"_

_"No," Akira gets closer and clenches his hands around the fabric of Goro's coat. "Just...with me. As long as you can. I know you want to."_

_Goro could easily deny it. But was there ever a point? Was there a point to any of this anymore? Goro's body craves something, maybe a moment of respite, perhaps simple tenderness. His gloved hands curl around Akira's, bringing them closer to his chest. Then he lets go, eyes set on the pavement as if he could somehow convince the ground to swallow him whole. "It wouldn't matter if I did," Goro readjusts his scarf just to give his hands something to do. "I'm not interested in a relationship. Not with you, not with anyone. No matter what my feelings are, I'm sure we won't see each other again after all is said and done."_

_"Then don't," Akira says simply._

_Goro really doesn't get him. "What do you really want, Akira?" he says eventually. "Can you even tell anymore? Do you know what it's like to want something for yourself? To selfishly want something so bad you don't care if the world turns into dust?"_

_"I don't," Akira admits easily, his hand sliding to Goro's neck. "But you do. You've wanted me since the moment you laid your eyes on me, and you still didn't hesitate to put a bullet through my brain. I know you'd make a great teacher."_

_"It's irresistible, you know," Goro says, only half-joking. "To put a bullet through such a pretty brain—it's quite the sight."_

_"Fuck it," Akira says, pressing a desperate kiss to Goro's lips. "I don't care as long as you don't stop holding me. Promise me. Promise me as much."_

_Goro freezes then, mouth moving before his brain can catch up. "I promise."_

_He makes good of his promise then, fucking Akira right there in public, with his body pressed against the cold walls in the alley in Kichijoji. It's all fine, Goro tells himself. Holding Akira helpless and willing is the closest he'll ever get to killing him again._

_It's the closest he can get to being in love with someone._

_(I want to torture you._

_If I really am dead back in the real world, I can't wait to see your despair.)_

* * *

_Is that what love really felt like?_

* * *

A newborn heart is fragile. 

Goro wakes up in a room so bright that for a second he thinks that for some insane reason he made it to the afterlife after all. It looks familiar too—the view from the window, the heavy ceiling beams hanging over his head. He's in the attic, and he's completely alone. Well, some heavenly version of the attic—it's surprisingly clean, the hardwood painted white, making the entire space look bigger and brighter. The mattress under him is soft and comfortable, and that's when he realizes he's sleeping in an actual bed.

Could it be...Akira's bed?

He pulls at the covers to discover he's wearing Akira's clothes, the same ones he'd often wear around the house back in high school. He raises himself on his elbows far too quickly, and he falls back on the soft pillow. Goro's hand wanders to his side touches his ribs—they hurt...are they broken? His body sends him so many signals it's enough to drive him insane. He takes a few calming breaths to identify them all one by one.

He's in pain.

He's exhausted.

And finally—

—he's really hungry.

_If this is what death is like, it really fucking sucks_. Pitifully, he attempts to get up again, but his legs barely react to movement. He winces in pain—there's no way in hell he's going to give up like this. Cursing under his breath, he uses all his strength to swing his legs from the edge of the bed. Other than almost falling off the mattress entirely, it does little to help his case. 

"Careful," a rough voice says suddenly. "The doc said you're not supposed to move."

Goro's survival instincts kick in, as he grabs the alarm clock off the nightstand to use it as a weapon if he must. It exhausts almost all his strength, but his fingers stubbornly clench around the object. The man in the pink apron almost jumps out of his own skin, the tray in his hand shaking from the sudden movement. "Do you know who I am, kid?" he asks very carefully, setting the tray down on the floor. "They told me your memory might be a bit wonky, but honestly, I didn't think you'd get like this."

Goro tries to push through the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Slowly, his mind clears enough for him to attempt to speak, "You're Leblanc's owner," Goro clenches his teeth, trying to get back to bed. He falls back on the pillows with a soft _huff_ , carefully trying to analyze his circumstances. So far, it surely doesn't feel like the afterlife. He eyes the set of meds on the tray. "And apparently, now you're a part-time nurse. Do you honestly think I'm dumb enough to accept pills from a person I barely know?"

"You don't have to do shit," Sojiro snorts. "But someone left me an important task of keeping you alive, you stubborn brat. So the least you can do is eat something."

He comes closer, setting the tray on the nightstand. Goro hungrily looks at the bowl of rice and the glass of water, trying his best not to look desperate. "No curry and coffee?"

"Not until you get better," Sojiro's expression softens for a moment. "Rice won't upset your stomach. You probably don't remember, but you were in a really bad shape."

After exhausting his strength, Goro barely has the strength to lift the bowl. Sojiro simply watches him, but he doesn't offer to feed him, and for that Goro is grateful. Eating takes longer than it should, his throat begrudgingly accepting the meal his stomach so desperately craved. He uses the time to think, carefully considering his circumstances.

  * He's not dead.
  * The last thing he remembers is saying goodbye to Akira in the Garden.
  * For some reason, he woke up in Leblanc.
  * Akira isn't here.



"You can ask me, you know," Sojiro says, handing him the glass of water. "Unless you're afraid of hurting your fragile ego."

He is, in fact. But the old man doesn't need to know that. "Fine," Goro sighs, begrudgingly deciding to accept the pills. They look like regular painkillers, anyway. "Where is he?"

"He has some things to take care of," Sojiro explains, watching Goro swallow the pills. "He should be back in a few days. "

Sojiro takes the tray. Suddenly, a soft weight lands on the bed, watching Goro carefully with a head cocked to the side. "Meow," Mona says eloquently.

Goro snorts, eyes narrowed as he regards the cat. "Really? You won't you talk to me?"

Morgana looks at him with the most puzzled expression. "Meow?"

"Noisy cat," Sojiro lifts Morgana in return who lets out a loud hiss. "Don't worry. I can't understand him either."

For a second, their eyes meet, Goro and Morgana exchanging troubled expressions. He _should be_ able to understand him. Sojiro seems completely unaware of the sudden tension, stopping only at the edge of the stairs. "Look, I'm not good at this whole...taking care side of things. I'm not really an emotional guy."

_Me neither_ , Goro thinks, but he doesn't say it.

"Still...welcome back, kid," Sojiro says, his voice cracking just slightly. "I don't know how you...But it's good to see you in...one piece."

Goro doesn't ask what it means.

* * *

Two weeks later, Akira still doesn't come back. 

Dispelling loneliness suddenly becomes a necessity, but Morgana's presence helps.

He finds him easier to be around when he doesn't understand what he's saying.

Goro's memories come back with time—or perhaps, almost all of them.

Goro doesn't remember his last words. Or dying itself, for that matter.

It's almost funny—he died three times and he still doesn't remember.

It takes him a week to walk again.

Adjusting to his new heart, however, takes much longer.

* * *

In his dreams, he can still hear people calling out his name.

He can't tell who the voices belong to or what they want. But with each dream, they move further and further away, and for the first time in his life, Goro's finally able to rest. 

("You know," Sojiro tells him at some point. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that all this time he was renovating this attic for you.")

Even after a month of living in Leblanc, Goro can hardly get used to the sudden brightness of the room. The sunlight shouldn't be so warm, slowly pulling him away from a nice dream. Goro thinks someone's touching his face. He scrunches up his nose, trying to shoo Morgana away. Instead, he feels a familiar laugh. His eyes immediately flutter open. 

"It's good to see you awake," Akira says softly. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself."

Goro raises himself on his elbows, trying to shake away the last bits of sleep to make sure he's not dreaming. "When did you—"

"I came back last night but you were already asleep," Akira eyes Goro's clothes with a hint of a smile. He's been stubbornly taking them out of Akira's closet, refusing to buy his own. "I didn't want to wake you, so I slept on the couch. Mona told me to let you rest—said you've been helping around Leblanc."

Goro immediately feels the confusion give way to slow, simmering anger. "I think you owe me some answers."

"I really do," Akira pulls a chair closer to sit down next to the bed. "But first of all—"

He places a bouquet of flowers on Goro's lap. "These are for you." 

"You're testing me," Goro sighs, his fingers dancing around the edges of petals. "A pitiful attempt, really. These are my mother's favorite flowers. How did you even now?"

"Lucky guess," Akira teases. "When I broke into your apartment, I saw a photo album. There was a picture of you and your mother, the same one that...Well, it reminded me of your Garden. You were smiling and wearing a straw hat that was way too big for you. She was smiling too, in the way I often saw you smile when you were giving interviews on TV—you have her smile, did you know?"

_Yes_ , Goro thinks. _It's a fake smile carried by people who live to please others_.

"She was holding flowers—a clumsy little bouquet," Akira continues. "Camelias, just like these. Did you make that bouquet?"

"I did my best," Goro rolls his eyes. "Never expected that years later I'd receive such heartfelt criticism from of a part-time florist."

Akira doesn't laugh. "That picture, you know...it dropped on the ground when your mother disappeared. Was it important to her?"

"How should I know?" Goro mutters bitterly.

Sometimes he thinks he never really knew his mother. Not even the fake version of her.

They sit in silence for a moment. "Your hair looks nice," Akira points out awkwardly. "It's almost hard to recognize you."

Coming from someone who had the audacity to grow older without him, it's almost funny. Goro doesn't know how old his current body is, or if he can put any age to it at all. Akira should be...twenty? Twenty-one? Goro's lost count. "Takamaki came by saying it's better I don't look too much like my old self," Goro slides his fingers through his short hair. "I don't think anyone would recognize me after all this time. But maybe it's better not to take any risks."

His hand remains there for a moment, remembering something. "All my scars are gone," Goro touches his hairline. It's something he noticed once he was able to take a bath. "There was one here. Have you ever noticed? I fell down the stairs when my mother was still sleeping—she would often sleep in, since she had to work until late. It was a cold winter's day. She told me not to go anywhere, but it was her birthday and I wanted to surprise her. On my way to the flower shop, I slipped on the frozen staircase and fell—they had to give me some stitches, and the scar never faded. The photo album you found, that scar—they're the only things I have left of her. They didn't let me keep a lot of things back in a group home, you see."

Akira takes Goro's hand into his own, tracing lazy patterns around Goro's wrist with his thumb. "But now you have more than just a scar to remember her by."

Goro's fingers touch the fabric of Akira's shirt, right over his heart. "I suppose I do."

It should be humiliating how easily Akira managed to distract him, but for some reason, Goro can't bring himself to care. "How am I alive?" he asks finally. "You must understand that with everything we've been through, it's hard to believe any of this is real."

"I have some theories," Akira says. "But I don't think we'll ever really know. How are you feeling?"

"Strange," Goro furrows his eyebrows. "When I get angry, the rage consumes me. When I get sad, I can barely stand it. When I'm happy, I'm..." he hesitates before looking away from Akira. "It feels like everything's too loud, too bright. It's...bothersome."

"Being alive usually is," Akira grins. "It might take some time getting used to."

"I have memories of who I was," says Goro, and Akira immediately stops smiling. "I feel like that person is so...far away. I remember his anger. His hatred. His loneliness. It's like I'm touching it through a thick glass—it feels familiar too, but I also feel like...It's not who I am. Does that disappoint you?"

"We all change," Akira looks away for a moment. "You're allowed to be your own person."

"I'm not Goro Akechi," Goro says then. "Am I?"

Akira hesitates before answering. "It's a loaded question. I think we've already established that you're not dead, even though your body is...still gone. A month ago, Makoto is a police officer now, and she got a call about an unconscious body of a boy near Odaiba. Sae pulled some favors to make sure no one ever finds out about it. After that, we transferred you here. For obvious reasons, we couldn't take you to a hospital, but I had a doctor I know help out. She said you were going to be fine with enough rest."

"That doesn't explain why I'm back," Goro points out. He eyes Morgana who stretches on the window sill, graciously jumping on Goro's lap. "What if it's another anomaly?" 

"Some anomalies don't interfere with our world," Akira says, petting Mona's head as he lets out an offended _Meow_. "It's interesting though—how you're not able to hear him. Maybe your body completely separated itself from the Metaverse."

"So it's gone?" Goro asks. " _All_ of it?"

"Yes," Akira nods. "Everything is as it should be."

Akira hesitates for a moment, before asking. "Before we continue, I have to know. Do you remember...everything?"

Goro shakes his head. "I remember everything that happened during the last loop. But if you're asking me about everything that happened before the fight with Maruki...it's just bits and pieces. Things are slowly coming back to me, though. It doesn't feel like my memories though. It's like watching a movie of a character you somehow feel related to, and yet, it's not real. It doesn't feel like I should be alive in the first place, but it also doesn't feel like I'm the one who died."

"You told me to find your heart," Akira recalls. "Maybe your heart belonged to this world from the start. Maybe this time...you were reborn right here."

"You still didn't answer my question," Goro pins him with his gaze. "Do you think I'm the same person?"

Akira lets go of his hand. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Under normal circumstances, Goro would likely get angry at such a blatant attempt of avoiding the question. However, Goro spent the last month asking himself the very question and still couldn't come up with a suitable answer. And yet, for the first time, he feels confident enough to reply. "Let's imagine you lose a tooth," he begins. "It's troublesome, but you might get an implant and then you're good as new. Doesn't make you any less human now, does it? Now imagine you lose a leg—you're given a prosthetic, and while it might be harder for you to function, you still live a normal human life. No one would say you're no longer Akira Kurusu, just because you lost a limb, would they now?"

Akira leans in a chair, a fond smile playing on the edge of his lips. It says _I missed you_ more than the actual words could say, and Goro enjoys the idea of being missed. "Go on."

"Now let's say your body is just fine," Goro says with a hint of irritation, feeling like Akira focuses less and less on his words, rather than the way he says them. "You lose your consciousness, your vaguely defined soul, you lose the very core of who you are—a heart, metaphorically speaking. And due to some miracle, you get a perfectly reconstructed version of yourself—one that shares all your memories, your likes, and dislikes—similar to the zombie you spoke of, except it seems just as conscious as anyone you know. A clone with a perfect replica of someone's heart and mind. A prosthetic soul, if you will. Knowing all that...Could you honestly say that person is still you?"

Akira analyzes his words for a moment. "Is that what you think happened to you?"

"It's far more complicated in my case," Goro shakes his head. "In my case, both my body and mind were reconstructed. Descartes claimed that the mind is superior to the body, but I don't think he could ever predict the Metaverse being an important factor in—what's so funny?"

The sound rings through the empty attic, gentle and carefree, the kind Goro hasn't heard in a while. Under the force of his gaze, Akira immediately stops laughing. "Goro," he says softly once he calms himself down. "With utmost certainty, I can tell you that no matter the circumstances of your existence in this world—you are, at the very core of your being, Goro Akechi. No one else would be pretentious enough to discuss the philosophy behind being brought back to life."

"So all this time you were gone?" Goro asks, trying not to get childishly offended. "Have you been trying to find my heart?"

The atmosphere immediately gets heavy, and Goro almost regrets asking. "I went to see Maruki," Akira says after a while. "I told him about what happened. I still think he deserves to be behind bars, he _is_ guilty. But I suppose I don't want to waste my life hating him for the rest of my days."

For a moment, Goro thinks of Shido. And yet, he doesn't feel the usual remorse—it's not that he's forgiven him, forgiven anyone in fact. He simply feels...free. He decides to tell Akira as much.

"Well, you were given a new heart," Akira says with a sad smile. "A fresh start. I can pull some strings to give you a new identity. From now on, you're free to do whatever you want."

But Akira isn't. His hands are as bloodstained as Goro's hands once were. Every day of his life tainted by the burden he took of Goro's hands. Unlike Goro, he won't be given a second chance. "You're free now, too," he says with all the innocence of someone who's been reborn. "Are you not?"

"You don't know half the things I've done," Akira says quietly. "Being as you are now...I don't think you could ever understand."

So there's a wall between them after all. A wall of all the experiences Akira and the old Goro Akechi shared. He could easily give up, or he could simply—"Get it together," Goro says sternly. The sharp sound of his voice makes Mona flee—or maybe he realized they might need some space. "Is that all it takes to defeat you? So you're not the person you used to be. So what? Do you think you're the only one who changed? Do you think your friends are the same people they were when you left? If you're so worried about change, what would you say about me then?"

Akira laughs bitterly. "I can't see how—"

"I'm not him, you know," Goro says. "I'm not the Goro Akechi who fought alongside you. I'm not the one who whispered whatever it was you wanted to hear before you fought Maruki. I'm not the person you loved, hell, I can't even say if he loved you because I'm not the one who felt all these things. But it is like you said—that Goro is dead."

"But I have his memories," Goro continues more softly when Akira doesn't interrupt him. "You have memories of him too. If you still want, we can...we can have a fresh start. Together. I don't want you to forget about him. I don't want to forget about my mother. But it shouldn't stop us from making fresh memories."

Akira hangs his head low, clearly considering something. When he finally meets Goro's gaze again, he seems to be determined. "Be careful, Goro Akechi," he says then. "With a heart as fragile as yours, it can easily get stolen."

"That's rich coming from someone who lost his heart to someone a long time ago," Goro points out mercilessly.

Akira doesn't deny it, contemplating his words in silence. "You spend a lot of time talking about _him_ ," he says eventually. "What about you, then? Do you love me?"

"Did he ever say it?" Goro asks in return. "That he loved you?"

"No," Akira says. "He never had to—he was sure I knew."

"And did you?"

"Yes," Akira says with the purest certainty. "I always knew."

"Then," Goro says with a small smile playing on his lips. "What makes you think I'd say it? Don't you already know?"

Akira hesitates for a moment before climbing into the bed with him. The bed is big enough to fit the two of them, but he still clings to Goro's body resting his head on Goro's chest with a content sigh. For a moment, Goro sits there paralyzed, too scared of placing the smallest of touches on Akira's body. "All this time in the Metaverse," Akira tells him. "I could never feel your heartbeat. I almost forgot what it sounds like."

It's strange. Goro very much remembers having one. "It's very much possible that I'm still a ghost," Goro murmurs, his fingers finally brave enough to slide into Akira's hair, pulling him closer to his chest. "You're just desperate to have me around."

"I don't care as long as you stay with me," Akira whispers. "Haunt me for as long as you can. Stay with me." 

_Promise me. Promise me as much._

"I will," he says then in the most simple of replies.

He won't waste his new heart on another heartbreak.

* * *

Years later, tangled in Akira's body, with the dawn slowly creeping into their unmade bed, Goro will ask, "If you could choose your last words to me, what would they be?"

Akira takes his time to answer. Their hearts beat together next to each other, one still young and naive, the other carefully mended. It took years, but eventually, Goro too relearned to be patient. Finally, Akira lifts his head, his heart stopping for a moment under Goro's hand, as if he really did intend for these words to be his last. "I like to think I would thank you—I'd thank you again and again for restoring my heart." 

The birds quiet down behind the window. The sunlight somehow dims, not impertinent enough to disrupt this important moment. In moments like this, it really does feel like they're back in the deserted reality. With a breath so quiet it might as well be the last breath to be taken on Earth, Goro Akechi says, "Even a detective can turn into a thief, as long as the treasure is worth stealing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this is the first multichapter i've managed to complete. at first, it was simply a writing exercise, something i was writing for fun to see if i can still write shuake content (that part is still debatable). but i'm glad some of you found it enjoyable, despite the lack of beta reading or in the end, my broken promise when it came to daily updates. in the end, i feel like this fic failed in everything it was supposed to be, but on the bright side—i really am glad i managed to finish something for once  
> \- some things were left out vague on purpose. i never liked forcing my views on other people, perhaps, that's why it's so hard for me to finish stories. still, if you want to see my point of view, feel free to ask in comments, through twitter or my cc account  
> \- some things i can tell you: goro's never been able to fully recover his memory. but maybe for that reason, he was able to be happy the way "the real" goro never could have been  
> \- the first scene might seem a little unnecessary, but i really wanted it to provide contrast to the goro i depicted in the fic. in some ways, they really are different people  
> \- i'm sorry if you think the ending was way too sugar-coated—i suppose, a part of me wanted to use this fic to give myself the courage to keep writing, and quite frankly, to remind myself that sometimes all you can do is live  
> \- the description of the fic said that the seven days were meant to save goro—but in the end, i decided that maybe, they should save each other  
> \- finally, i'm sorry for never replying to comments. i can't tell you how much they meant to me, but fandom's becoming a more and more terrifying place for me, so sometimes i'm too scared to interact. nevertheless, thank you for staying till the end.

**Author's Note:**

> something that was supposed to be a comic idea if i could draw. but because i can't, i decided to make it longer and put it in writing.
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/akihmorn).


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